


The Moment Arrives (series #2) - Collection #2

by sweepeaspatch



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 22,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweepeaspatch/pseuds/sweepeaspatch
Summary: More short stories on the subject of tipping points...





	1. Dwayne Scores a Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Story List:  
> 1\. Dwayne Scores a Hit (2 parts)  
> 2\. His Other Secret Power (4 parts)  
> 3\. Stop Talking  
> 4\. Thank You Madame Rose (6 parts)  
> 5\. That Magic Touch  
> 6\. Advice  
> 7\. Fidel Tries  
> 8\. The New Help  
> 9\. Doppelganger (6 parts)  
> 10\. Rollercoaster

**Dwayne Scores a Hit**

Part 1 of 2

“Morning, Dwayne. Fidel.”

Dwayne knew as soon as the Chief came into the office looking like a new man. He ran his eyes up and down the suit, all prim and proper as usual, but… _He looks chipper… happy, even!_ There is a small smile playing at the corner of the Chief’s mouth and he is quietly humming. _Hmmm, this should be good,_ Dwayne thinks as he turns to watch the door.

He has to give her credit, she waits a full 2 minutes before sauntering in... glowing. Her eyes shoot immediately to the Chief, run up and down his back, then drop when he turns at the sound of her step.

They look at each other for a beat before the Chief solemnly says, “Morning, Camille. Nice day.”

She smiles slow and sweet, “Yes, sir. A VERY nice day.”

And that is that. They sit at their desks and proceed to work as usual!

Dwayne lays both hands onto his desktop. _Oh, no! This won’t do! If they think I waited all this time for them to get their show on the road just to act as if nothin’ has happened then they’ve got another think comin’!!_ He goes for a fresh coffee to gather his thoughts. _Gotta hand it to him, she’s never looked like that in all the time I’ve known her. Kitten got her cream last night. He must have hidden talents. Good on you, Chief._

He is still chuckling to himself when Fidel ducks in, panicked. “What’s wrong with the Chief? He’s singing!” he mouths quietly… you had to practically use ESP in the office else the Chief would hear.

Clapping the younger man on the back, Dwayne murmurs low, “Hummin’, more like… and you a married man an’ all! Don’t you know that look?”

Fidel looks at him for a beat then whirls to look back out into the main room, “You’re right!” he breathes just as low, “Oh, golly, they finally did it.” Blushing a bit, he turns back to Dwayne, “Or maybe just finally admitted it to each other. I’m not saying they actually did it, you know?”

Dwayne gives a knowing smile, “Oh, they did it alright. I can see it plain as day.”

Fidel smiles wistfully, thinking of his own wife, whispers, “Well, I think it’s sweet. Love wins in the end, eh?”

“Yeah, but they kept us hangin’ on tender hooks forever! All that shoutin’ and arguin’! Man, some days it wasn’t fit for man nor beast in here! Let’s hope we get some peace and quiet now.”

Fidel has to agree. Some days had been VERY awkward.

“An’ I know just how to pay ‘em back!” Dwayne mutters and sets his mug down with a click.

Fidel tries to catch him but he’s isn’t fast enough. Instead, he stays put just out of sight and listens intently. He doesn’t want to get caught in the cross-fire if Dwayne’s plan goes up in flames.

Dwayne saunters out into the middle of the office, hooks his thumbs into his belt and observes them both. _Yep… they are puttin’ up a really good front. Whatever happened last night isn’t goin’ to interfere with the smooth runnin’ of the station, at least._ He takes a deep breath, _OK... time to start this party!_

Speaking up jovially, he nods to D. I. Poole, “You’re lookin’ very satisfied this mornin’… sir. Sleep well?” He sees the bolt shoot home. _Bull’s eye! That’s hit number one._

He turns to Camille. Her eyes flash a subtle warning but Dwayne is way past subtle. He gives her an evil grin, “And YOU, Camille, you look positively radiant. Have a good date last night?” He hears a stifled laugh from the break area. _My humour is being appreciated on one front, at least. Hah, that’s hit number two._

Turning back to the Chief, he is gratified to see he has the man’s complete attention. “You’ve lost a bit of weight, sir. Been exercisin’?” The man stiffens minutely and a dangerous look comes into his eye.

 _Oops, that might have been a bit much._ A tiny growl from Camille’s direction and the complete silence radiating from the break area confirms this suspicion. _Oh well, may as well be a ram as a lamb, here goes nothin’…_

Speaking generally to the room now, he rocks back and forth on his heels and pontificates, “Ah… I bet you started runnin’... or some such, eh, Chief?” He nods to himself, “Yes, I’ve always thought that a good hard romp in the early mornin’ is the best way to start your day… gets the bodily juices flowin’.” _That’s hit number three and I’ve sunk your battleship!_

Casting an eye over the man visibly swelling with indignation in front of him, Dwayne just couldn’t stop himself, “An’, naturally, some people like a good romp in the evenin’ too, just to relax and unwind from a long hard day at the office… but you’ve got to be in real good shape for that kind of regime.”

He turns back to Camille, keeping a sharp ear for the sound of the Chief’s chair hitting the wall, just in case he has to duck or run, “Why, I know people who need a really good dedicated partner… to keep them in the groove an’ on track an’ improve their time an’ endurance…” but that’s as far as he got. Actually, he is amazed he got this far! A quick look back and he gulps, the Chief’s eyes are blazing!

That’s when Camille erupts out of her astonishment, and her chair, and rounds on him, bundles him across the room and out the door onto the veranda.

There is a beat of silence then Fidel breaks cover and races out to save his demented colleague from the severe beating he is sure will follow… only to find them doubled up and laughing hysterically as quietly as they can.

Camille wipes her streaming eyes and gasps, “Dwayne! What came over you?! He is going to kill you!”

END – Dwayne Scores a Hit – part 1


	2. Dwayne Scores a Hit

** Dwayne Scores a Hit **

Part 2 of 2

Amazed, Fidel asks her hesitantly, “Aren’t you angry?”

Waving a hand helplessly, leaning on the veranda railing beside Dwayne, she gasps out, “I should be furious with you both! I could hear you laughing in the break room, Fidel, trying to be quiet. Thanks for showing some restraint… unlike SOME people!” she shoots over her shoulder at Dwayne then falls to laughing again, “Oh, the look on his face! Priceless! I’ll never forget it. That was almost as much fun as…” but here she pauses, remembering herself.

Leaning over and putting his hand on her shoulder, Dwayne finishes for her, “… as much fun as last night, eh? I’m right, aren’t I? Somethin’ DID happen? Fidel thinks so too, don’t you, Fidel?”

Fidel nods, “But I would never assume to think what. Some people have overactive imaginations,” he shoots back at Dwayne.

They are all smiling giddily at each other when a cool clipped voice speaks from the doorway, “I AM standing right here, you know.”

They whirl like guilty schoolchildren and face him. His arms are crossed over his chest, the suit calm and in control. He looks them each in the eye. Camille has the grace to blush a bit, hands behind her back, but she meets his stern look with a secret smile and he smiles back, just a flash then gone. She relaxes. It is all right.

Fidel holds his gaze for a moment then drops his eyes, “Sorry, sir. I plead temporary insanity.”

“Hmm, understandable. You are just an innocent bystander, after all.” Fidel relaxes too.

The Chief turns to Dwayne. Dwayne feels twin laser beams hit the back of his skull. _Huh, don’t think I can bluff my way out of this one… but no harm in tryin’…_ Taking a deep breath, he straightens up and stands to attention, “Well, Chief, you see, it’s like this…”

“Like what?” is the icy response.

_Man, they don’t kid around with that ‘stiff-upper-lip’ a’tall! He’s frosted!_ Stumped for an answer, Dwayne’s shoulders slump and he looks down, “Well, we’ve been waitin’ ages for you two to come to grips…” He winces, “Sorry, sorry… I mean for you two to settle this thing between you. It’s been pretty tense around here lately.”

“So glad to have provided you both with daily entertainment,” is the dry reply.

Fidel nods and tries to help, “Yes, even the Commissioner…”

Frost settles on him too, “The Commissioner… what?”

Gulping, Fidel can’t remember what.

Dwayne tries again, “What Fidel means is… other people have been wonderin’ too. The Commissioner is a very savvy man. He saw it first.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes, sir. Just weeks after you arrived, he asked me…” The eyebrows shoot up, the lips thin out into a tight line. “Um, I forget what he asked me…”

“I can just imagine. That sly old fox. All this time, he knew.” The Chief seems pensive now.

Camille has been slowly approaching her DI, like a bomb disposal agent. She puts a hand on one of his crossed arms. He blinks and then smiles down at her. She smiles back and stands easy, “Are you very angry? I’m sorry I laughed but it was just too clever.” Turning to Dwayne, she punches his bicep, “You are a very bad man! Where did you learn to talk so dirty about nothing at all?”

He grins, “I’m a man of many talents.”

Uncrossing his arms and huffing out a breath, the Chief puts his arm around Camille and pulls her to his side. She lays her head on his shoulder and slips her arms around his waist. The briefest of embraces then they part. Both Dwayne and Fidel’s eyebrows shoot up.

Catching their looks, the Chief snorts, “Oh, knock it off. You just spent the last 10 minutes winding me up. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Much back-slapping and congratulations follow. They all go back inside, back to their normally scheduled work day.

As they re-enter the office, the Chief says, “Officer Myers, I’m sure you’ve gotten it all out of your system… so no more quips about my exercise regime, if you please.”

Grinning, Dwayne answers, “Your secret is safe with me.” As everyone settles down at their desks, he suddenly looks up, “A’ course, no promises about weddin’s an’ bundles of joy an’ little rose-covered cottages with a picket fence…”

The Chief groans and sinks his smile into his hands, “Why me? Why is it always me?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Outside, down in the market square, satisfied looks flash up and down the stalls.

Several vendors call Catherine in the hopes of getting one-up on her… but, of course, she already knew. When her girl didn’t come home last night then flew in that morning to shower and change while singing “Let’s Get Physical” at the top of her voice… well, how could she not know?

Several men and women have their hearts broken as the word spreads.

Dwayne enjoys many intimate retellings of how he bearded the dragon in his den and survived.

Most people don’t know the Chief at all and are a bit scared of him. So much the better. Dwayne is a braver man in their eyes and he takes full advantage of his augmented street cred.

It didn’t hurt his dating regime, either.

_Sauce for the gander, an’ all…_

END – Dwayne Scores a Hit


	3. His Other Secret Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body English... training pays off for Richard...

**His Other Secret Power**

Part 1 of 4

Camille is so boooooooooooored! She convinces the team to go for lunch. Seated at the coolest shaded table, their orders taken, she rests her chin in her hand and idly observes the other patrons. Her menfolk are discussing something technical and her mind drifts to the young couple at the next table. After a few moments, she smiles wistfully and sighs.

“Something?” Richard murmurs from her left. He always does that. Paid attention when she thought he wasn’t and yet still totally oblivious to the obvious. She sighs again.

Camille leans close and murmurs, “He’s going to propose.”

They study the couple for a few moments then, “Quite the opposite. He’s breaking up with her.”

“What? No way! A man doesn’t look at a woman like that then break up with her. Look at him; gazing into her eyes, holding her hand, whispering words of love…” She props her chin in her hand again and watches the couple with a dreamy look which does not escape Richard’s attention. Oblivious does not mean blind.

Dwayne speaks up, “She’s right, Chief. He’s got it bad. I can tell.” Fidel nods.

Sipping his tea nonchalantly, Richard shakes his head. He’d just completed an intensive course of “Subliminal and Non-Verbal Communication Techniques” only 2 weeks ago. Much to his surprise, ‘body english’ is no longer a complete mystery. It is just another kind of puzzle.

Camille, Fidel, and Dwayne all urge him to change his mind and while the discussion rages, the woman leaps to her feet and throws her drink into the man’s face. She storms out, passing the team’s table of three stunned faces and one smug one.

The man heads off to the bathrooms, dripping.

They turn back to Richard as one, goggle-eyed.

“How on earth did you know?” Fidel asks.

“Knock me down with a palm frond! Do you know that couple, Chief? Did you know he was goin’ to break up with her?” demands Dwayne.

Only Camille senses something else at work here. “How did you do that?” she whispers.

Giving her a little smile over the rim of his tea cup, he explains, “He was watching her eyes to gauge her reaction. He was holding her hand to soothe her. He was whispering too fast. Her shoulders were tensing up. She uncrossed her calves and braced her feet beneath the table. He had a light sweat on his upper lip. He was keeping an eye on that woman over there.”

Three heads swivel towards the bar where a flashy brassy blonde is smirking into a drink.

Camille sizes the blonde up, “Well, I hope she’s worth it. That poor girl!”

Richard shakes his head again, “She’s married, an alcoholic, a gambler, and crazy to boot.” This time they just look at him. Camille makes the palms-up gesture that means TELL US!

Sighing, he puts down his tea cup, sits back in his chair, and folds his hands in his lap. “This isn’t Psych 101, you know, but all right. Her ring finger has a slight indentation where her ring usually sits. She takes it off to troll.” They all peer but no one can make it out.

“There are four condensation rings on the bar in front of her. That drink in her hand is number five and it isn’t even 1 pm yet.” Fidel stands up then sits back down, shaking his head. He can’t see any rings.

“She has six faded stamps on the back of her hand from different local casinos. It takes five days for those stamps to fade.” No one looks at the woman. They are staring at him.

When he doesn’t speak up immediately, Dwayne prompts him, “And… is she crazy?”

“Must be… she thinks breaking up a young couple is funny. I suspect it amuses her. Let’s see, shall we?” and he swivels around to watch as the man comes back into the room.

Camille leans in and almost puts her chin on Richard’s shoulder, whispering, “How did you know he would come in just now? Did you time it? Did you hear his footsteps?”

Richard closes his eyes briefly as her warm breath washes over the side of his face then takes a steadying breath and plays it cool. He whispers back, “Let’s just watch.” Oblivious doesn’t mean dead.

The man went to the woman, tries to sit down beside her. She laughs and calls him a fool. They have a furious row. She tells him to grow a pair and stop bothering her like a silly little lap dog. She turns back to order another drink… her sixth, the team is sure, and the man stands like a stunned thing.

Crossing his arms, Richard murmurs, “And NOW, he will dash off after the jilted girlfriend.”

Dwayne holds up a finger, “No way, Chief! You got lucky on all those other guesses but there is NO way…” then watches in disbelief as the young man suddenly bolts out of the bar in the direction the young woman had taken.

Folding his finger back into a fist, Dwayne hits the table, “I don’t believe it! I do NOT believe it!! It has to be a trick. Tell us how you did it!”

“Yes! Tell us,” urges Fidel. “Do they get back together? Will they be happy?”

The brassy blonde downs her final drink (in this establishment) and saunters out. If Octavia St. Remy had deigned to look at the table of ‘locals’, she would have spotted ‘the one that got away’ and things would have gone pear-shaped… but she didn’t, mostly because little ‘sweet treat’ made sure of it.

Wiping his lips with a napkin, and using it as cover until Octavia is safety out of sight, Richard folds it carefully beside his plate, “And how do you presume I would know that? I’m not a mind-reader, after all.”

_No_ , thinks Camille, _but you ARE one amazing detective._ Then she asks, “Can you do that with anybody? Observe, deduce, extrapolate reactions?”

The men turn to her, only Richard not looking surprised. He gives her a little smile and nod which gives her a warm rush that she hopes doesn’t show… especially now! After a moment, she asks the question that is on everyone’s mind, “Do you do it to us?”

Their reactions are interesting. Fidel gulps and sits up straight. Dwayne crosses his arms and sits back. Richard… well, Richard… now this is veeeery interesting. He freezes. Just for a moment. His eyes flick towards her then down to the table. Since she is the closest to him, she sees the quick flush race over his cheekbones then fade.

Crossing his arms again, he calmly says, “No, of course not. That would be unprofessional. Besides, it makes people uncomfortable.”

Dwayne and Fidel smile in relief. “That’s good, Chief,” Dwayne says, “Don’t use your super-powers on us! Save it for the bad guys.” Everyone laughs and their orders arrive.

During the meal, the two men amuse themselves by asking Richard to ‘read’ other people in the restaurant. There is much argument about whether his ‘hunches’ are correct or not. Several are right on the money since Dwayne knows the private lives of most of the people present.

“You know, Chief, that is one handy skill. Think you could teach it to us?”

“No, Dwayne. You would use it to pick up women and do god-knows-what with it. Fidel already has it… he’s married. Camille…” Here he pauses, a sad look there and gone, “Camille is a closed book.” Shaking off whatever mood has hit him, he adds, “Besides, with great power comes great responsibility and I prefer to use it on ‘the bad guys’.”

Their meal finished, they return to the office. The two officers tease their D.I. a bit then silence settles.

Camille’s mind is anything but silent. During the ride back, she had thought furiously, _Am I REALLY a closed book? Don’t you know ANY of my secrets? Have you no clue at all?_ She thinks about all the hints, flirtations, and outright come-ons she’s thrown at him. She would be scandalized to watch a friend throw herself at a man like this but she just can’t stop herself! The more he resists, the more she wants him… but now she has to accept his own word that he simply did not see it. Not any of it!

_Why can he read other people but not me? He’s so cool and dispassionate when he faces strangers. Maybe that’s it! I’m not a stranger. His vision must be clouded. Clouded by what? Feelings? Does he have feelings for me that throws off his secret power?_

As the afternoon winds down to a cooler evening, an outrageous plan begins to form in her head.

End – part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering about Octavia St. Remy, find her in "The Moment Arrives: collection #1" in the stories titled 'Shark!' and 'Swimming with Sharks'. Camille hasn't met St. Remy face-to-face yet else mayhem would have ensued.


	4. His Other Secret Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camille plays dirty poole...

**Part 2 of 4**

The next day, Camille asks Dwayne to dig out the old camcorder and outlines her plan.

“Ah, Camille, that’s dirty pool, that is! Brilliant. Can I watch him watch it?

“No, Dwayne. It might come as an awful shock and I want to give him some privacy. He’s a proud man, you know, not a giant ego like you.”

Dwayne laughs, accepting THAT truth.

With one thing and another, she can’t get around to setting her plan in motion until 3 days later. Finally there is a lull in crime, it is a lovely evening, and she invites Richard to a small restaurant for dinner. She tells him she needs some professional advice about her career and wants privacy and his input. He hesitates then agrees.

Dwayne leaves the station a few minutes ahead of them.

When they are seated at their reserved table in the quietest corner, she proceeds to talk shop and quiz him about career paths. They discuss education possibilities, trainings, even more undercover work. As their talk progresses into territory where she might have to leave Saint-Marie, she notices he becomes more troubled but his advice is still measured and authoritative. After a long pause where his eyes are downcast and a slight frown creases his brow, she carefully moves onto dangerous ground.

“And, of course, sooner or later I have to decide if I’m going to marry and have a family...” He stops moving. “… like you did. You put your career ahead of personal considerations. Very professional.”

He sighs, “Is that what happened? I was ‘professional’?”

“Well, weren’t you?” A long silence spins out then he shifts a bit and clears his throat, “I did not ‘choose’, Camille. I’m just not the sort of man that wins the prize. You know how much I despised my last workplace. I was not happy so how could I find happiness?”

“But you’re completely different now. You’re well known here, admired and respected. You’ve come into your own. You could go back and show those bastards in Croydon a thing or three now. You’re the Chief!!”

He thinks about this, nods, and perks up, _Trust Camille to know EXACTLY what to say._

She tries to catch his gaze, “Not that I want you to go back.”

He gives her a surprised smile, “Really? That’s very nice to hear. And, do you know? I no longer wish to go back. I’ve adjusted now. Well, except for the sand, and the bugs, and the heat. And I’ve even found the perfect cup of tea so it’s all good.” He sits back with a pleased look.

“Where is this perfect tea?”

“Why, it’s the tea you make for me at the station. It’s just right.”

“You never told me that.”

“Oh, sorry….but it is….perfect, I mean.” _As are you_ , he thinks.

“And there’s a perfectly sensible solution to the sand, bugs, and heat that can keep you on the island.”

“There is?”

She laughs, “Yes, of course. You’re the super detective. Detect!!”

It takes him about 10 seconds, “It’s the beach house, isn’t it?” He slaps his forehead, “Why am I still there after all this time? I must be dense! Of course! Oh, I AM stupid. I need to buy a house away from the sand with screens and air-conditioning. I can sell my house in Croydon and get a house here!” His eyes slip closed, “It would be heaven.”

“Yes,” she murmurs, “Heaven in Paradise.”

His eyes open, glinting with amusement, “That’s a double positive. Very good.”

Drawing circles on the table cloth with one finger, she muses, “And will there be room in this new house for a wife and children?”

His joy immediately damps. A still wariness replaces it. He avoids her eyes again, “Probably not. I don’t see how. My prime passed about 10 years ago. I can’t imagine anyone settling for me now.”

“Seriously? No one?”

He shakes his head.

“I can.”

He looks at her for a frozen moment from beneath his brows, “Who?”

She leans forward. He leans forward. She whispers, “You’re the detective. Detect!!”

And that is the end of their dinner. She drops a very pensive Richard off at his soon-to-be-former home then returns to the restaurant to pick up Dwayne.

“I got it all, just like you said. What on earth were you two talkin’ about? I’ve never seen him go through so many moods all at once like that.”  He lays the recorder on the seat between them.

“Never you mind. I’m taking a big gamble here. I’ll handle it now. No sense getting us both fired.”

Dwayne pats her shoulder, “No worries there! He loves you.”

Nodding, she says, “Yeah, I'm hoping, you're knowing, but does HE see it?”

Smiling like the proverbial Cheshire cat, Dwayne opines, “He’s gonna see it pretty damn soon! Man, I wish I could watch.”

End part 2


	5. His Other Secret Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard struts his stuff...

**Part 3 of 4**

She asks him around to her place the next day. There is a troublesome piece of evidence that needs his secret power of reading people and she’d foolishly forgotten it in her VCR.

He’s been uncharacteristically quiet all day. She catches him watching her very intently. Studying her. Twice he has started to say something then fallen silent. Is he getting suspicious about this VCR?

Closing up shop, they drive to her place. Pouring 2 glasses of wine, she gives him one, “Might as well treat it like a movie.”

When their fingers tips touch he does not pull away but lingers before bringing the wine to his lips, “Nice. Very full-bodied. Very French.”

She nearly drops her glass but recovers nicely, she hopes. _Did he just use a double entendre?! Him??!!_ But he is already heading for the sofa, settling down, crossing his legs, looking very comfortable.

“Just make yourself to home,” she sarcastically intones. He lifts his glass to her and smiles.

_That’s just plain weird! I wonder what’s gotten into him?_ She starts the tape, sitting down beside him.

“Right… I’ll give a running commentary, shall I?”

The tape is black and white with no sound. It shows a man and a woman walking to a table… from the shoulders down only. Richard puts his wine down onto the coffee table and rubs his hands together, “Ahhh! A challenge! Well, first off, see how his hand hovers in the small of her back as they approach the table? He wants to touch her but isn’t sure she will accept it.”

Camille sees it… now. She hadn’t seen it last night, of course. A warm spot flares up on her back.

“Ah, now see how they are at ease. They are obviously discussing something impersonal. Yes, she is asking his advice and he is giving it with assurance.”

Camille takes a gulp of wine. Incredible!

“She’s saying something he doesn’t like. He’s becoming uneasy but trying to hide it. But, wait, this is interesting. She doesn’t really mean it. She’s baiting him. She obviously likes him so why would she hurt him like that? Maybe she has a cruel streak?”

Startled, Camille blurts out, “How do you know she likes him?”

“It’s obvious, look at how she touches his hand, his arm. She’s leaning in trying to get close but tipping her shoulders back trying to keep her distance. She’s torn. She’s not sure if he likes her or not.”

Camille becomes very VERY still. This is it! The $10,000 question! Hesitantly she asks, “Does he?”

But Richard has already moved on, “Now she’s said something that pleases him. He’s relaxing. And he’s just complimented her. She seems surprised. I wonder why? She obviously knows how he feels for her.”

“She does?”

“Well, she should. He’s practically radiating X-rays. The pheromones must be washing off him.”

“Can you smell pheromones?”

“No, you can only react to them. It’s wonderful stuff.” He shifts a bit then resettles. “Annnnd… now she’s teasing him. How cruel. She must be French. Friend of yours, maybe?”

Camille shifts a bit herself, shrugs, takes another gulp of wine.

He nods at the TV, “But her teasing has just helped him solve a thorny problem. Look how they laugh together. Oh, yes, they are both pleased now. But see how she is tensing up. She’s waiting for something else. And look… he’s getting up the courage to say something! Finally, he’s going to tell her…”

Camille sits up straight, holds her breath, “Oh, the suspense is killing me! What next??”

“Hmm, this part is a bit complex. She wants to tell him something but is afraid to. He wants to tell her something but is also afraid. Stalemate… oh, golly!”

Camille jumps!

“Annnd… POW! She just dropped a bombshell on him! He doesn’t know what to say. Something secret… something he wants very badly… has just been exposed. He’s trying to be calm but I can guarantee that his heart rate just went through the roof. How intriguing. What do you think she said?”

Camille is frantically trying to remember what she’d said the night before. It’s all jumbled in her head.

Richard calmly states, “Oh, yes, I’d say she’s French. Most definitely. Cruel race. Well known fact.”

Camille can only watch the TV screen, watch their shadows move through last night’s conversation. She feels mean now for what she’d put him through. Who knew a simple conversation could have so many layers, so many meanings? And pheromones? She’d better research that asap!

“He’s confessing something to her, something he’s not proud of. He’s very upset. But look how her hand flies to rest on his forearm. She’s stroking him ever so minutely. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She’s calming him. He’s taking heart. Maybe not all is lost?”

She leans forward to see what he sees… she doesn’t remember touching him at all last night. Now she sees how her hands are soothing him, patting him.

“And here, he’s asking her a vital question. Look. Their fingers are intertwining and they don’t even notice. I wonder what he asked her. Any ideas?”

Camille’s cheeks flame. Up there, on the screen, she can see it happening as if to two strangers. _Oh, I’m so glad Dwayne isn’t here like he asked! He’d be laughing his head off at me! And explaining everything to Richard!_

End - part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I said this was a 3-parter but a 4th scene came in the middle of the night and insisted on being included here. Finished tomorrow.


	6. His Other Secret Power

**Part 4 of 4**

He turns those amazing eyes on her. She catches up her wine to give herself something to do and shakes her head, “I can’t imagine,” she squeaks.

“Whatever it is, he’s yearning for it with all his heart but he’s afraid to admit it.”

“Oh, how sad. Is he very hurt?”

“Devastated. Probably suicidal.” He sips his wine, cool as can be.

“No! No! Don’t let him give up hope! She’s so stupid! I could just slap her!”

He shoots her a hot glance that she totally misses, so engrossed is she on the screen.

Without looking at the TV or taking his eyes off her, he continues, “Oh, now she’s said something to give him hope. She doesn’t think he heard it but he did. He’s thunderstruck. She’s tipped her hand and told him what she was afraid to say.”

She whirls on him, grabs his forearm with both hands, “What??? What did she say?”

Putting down his wine, he leans forward and whispers in her ear, “… that she loves him.”

She gasps, falling back onto the sofa, “Oh, good. I’m so glad.”

He waits.

Camille’s smile fades. Her gaze slides sideways. He is watching her. Watching her like he’s done all day at the office.

“Ummm, are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. He thought about it all night. He ‘detected’ and he solved the puzzle.” He slowly rises off the sofa to stand over her.

She slowly rises too and casually puts the coffee table between them, picking up their wine glasses as a cover, “More wine?”

“Is it French?” She nods mutely. “Is it full-bodied?” He is coming around the table, a gleam in his eye she’s never seen before, “Is it ready to be imbibed?”

She drops the glasses and makes a dash for it, breathless with excited laughter.

“Bordey!” he roars, “You are SO nicked!!”

She races towards the front door but he is there, arms out, a fierce grin on his face. She reverses like an eel and dashes for the stairs. She makes it all the way to the top and whirls to look down in triumph until she realizes he is no longer chasing her but standing at the bottom, watching her.

Her indignant look amuses him so much he just has to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she shouts, hands on hips.

“Us! I knew that clip was us from the very first frame. Our watches. Our shoes. That short skirt that drove me mad. I took your advice and I detected.”

She can’t help herself… she swivels her body back and forth like a shy schoolgirl (works every time), “Really? Mad?” Then her brow darkens and her hands are back on her hips, “Then why aren’t you chasing me anymore?!! Are you too ‘mature’ to chase a pretty woman like the young boys do?”

Locking eyes with her, the green blazing, he starts very slowly up the steps, “My dear, young boys chase…”

He is half way up now. She can’t move. Won’t move.

“… mature men catch.”

She can hear her heartbeat. Is she even breathing?

“Besides… there’s nowhere for you to go. In a moment you will be in my power. Do you wish it?”

Sighing, she nods.

He comes up the last step. He puts his hands on her hips. He looks deep into her eyes.

Then he throws her over his shoulder and carries her into her bedroom.

Their bedroom.

END – His Other Secret Power


	7. Stop Talking

**Stop Talking**

They creep along a line of trees at the top of a bluff. The gunman is hunting for them and it is only good luck that they saw him in time. They work their careful way down almost to the parking lot where the Defender waits. Just as they are about to make a dash for it, Richard whirls and slams into Camille, driving them both down into a small hollow at the edge of the lot.

When he lands on top of her, Camille feels an excruciating stab in the small of her back. She got half a breath out in a cry when Richard’s hand claps over her mouth. His weight is driving her onto a railway spike! She frantically heaves him up and sweeps an arm under herself, catching at the knife she is sure is buried in her spine. She pulls out her hand. They both look at a small pointed rock. She drops it beside them and relaxes onto the soft grass beneath her. Better! So much better!

His hand is still over her mouth. She is tucked beneath his chin. She can barely move. They both freeze as footsteps pass almost directly over their hiding spot. Richard presses his head down onto her shoulder and they both hold their breath. It is a long tense moment. The sounds move off.

Richard carefully moves to look out through the waving grasses ringing their hiding place. He lowers his mouth to her ear, “He’d moving off, circling around. He’s probably going to stay nearby to wait for us to go for the truck.” She nods. They wait. One minute. Two.

She reaches up and pushes his hand off her mouth, “I can’t breathe,” she whispers, “You’re very heavy.”

“Sorry,” he mouths back, “There isn’t room for me to shift.”

Another minute passes. Richard checks again. Shakes his head, “He’s staked out our vehicle. We have to wait a bit more.”

She nods, “You’re still heavy.”

“So sorry. I’ll start a weight loss program first thing tomorrow. Don’t talk!”

More time passes, “You’re very hot.”

“It’s the suit. My back is broiling. I am definitely going to get lighter suits. When we get out of this fix.”

“I’ll take you shopping. Your ties should match your eyes.”

He sighs, “My eyes. You’re rambling. Stop talking.” He checks again… for a long time. Shakes his head.

“You’re very heavy. You’re very hot. And now you’re very….” They eyes lock. His in alarm. Hers in amusement. She waits a few moments more, “Oh, my.”

Despite his earlier assurances that there is no room to shift, he tries to shift anyway. Camille grabs his lapels to keep him in place, “Don’t. It’s nice.”

He is fierce in his embarrassment, “It’s NOT nice. It’s totally inappropriate.”

“No. It’s nice. Tell me, is that just for me or would any woman do?”

His eyes are shocked, “What?”

“It just proves that you’re a normal man underneath the suit. I’ve always suspected it.”

He is blushing furiously, “I can’t actually control it, you know. Don’t hold it against me.”

She smiles with glee, “I’d rather…” His hand is over her mouth again before she can finish what they both know she is going to say. She has to settle for arching her eyebrows at him and smiling against his palm.

He doesn’t know what else to do so he checks again. Shakes his head, “We can’t move yet. Please overlook this unfortunate lapse on my part. We have to work together. I’m your superior officer and therefore responsible for you. Don’t talk… please.”

She licks his palm and he whips it away, “I won’t be able to talk if you kiss me.”

He just looks at her.

“Kiss me.”

He shakes his head, solemn.

“Yes, you will, because you want to, don’t you?” She slips her hands up around his waist then up under his jacket. She feels cooler air rush in to wash his soaked back.

He sighs, defeated and his bluff called, “Enough. We can get up. The gunman left a long time ago. I don’t know what I was playing at… pretending we were still in danger. I just wanted to be the hero for once, I suppose. Foolish of me.”

She smiles, “I know. I heard him get into his car down the road and drive away.” She catches at him as he tries to rise, “And, no, not foolish. You were willing to take a bullet in the back for me. Stay a moment more, my hero.”

“I mustn’t. I’m in gross dereliction of duty and breaking a dozen regulations here. Please forgive me.”

“I will. If you kiss me. One kiss.”

He is solemn again… but there is a minute shift in his eyes… is it a tiny chink in his armour?

Quietly, she whispers, “What can it hurt?”

Turns out it can hurt a lot… a painful rush of heat and desire, the bruising force of his lips on hers, her nails buried in his back, the stab of his groin to hers… it hurt a lot so good.

He peels himself away, looking guilty as hell. They wait a few more moments until he’s gotten himself under control then they slowly circle the lot, checking for the perp. He is indeed gone.

They get into the Defender. Before she turns the key, she looks at him, “This isn’t over, Richard. If I have to seduce you into an affair, I will. I’m not proud. I want you. Will you give us a chance? Can you trust me enough to give us a chance?”

“I’d like to. I really would. It just doesn’t seem possible. Are you sure?”

“Positive. Let me try. What have you got to lose?”

So softly, she has to strain to hear him, “Only my heart.”

She nods, kicks the truck into life… a bit like him, really. “That’s all I want. Just everything.”

END – Stop Talking


	8. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post daily to clear my binder of clutter...

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 1 of 6

The team is processing a crime scene at a VERY private bordello. The manse is secluded, exclusive, and very top-drawer. The grounds are lovely. The entire operation is sedate, serene, and secure.

Officers Myers and Best had been AGOG when the call came in!  D.I. Poole had been totally professional and dispassionate, much to the admiration of his team, until they realized the location probably meant nothing to him. He simply did not know. _Thank god for that,_ Camille sighs. She worries constantly about how he deals with ‘personal’ needs but now she can cross this possibility off her list.

And that is such a blessed relief that she would have fallen to her knees in silent thanks but for the job at hand. She has been VERY worried of late. Nothing she said or did made any difference. Richard is oblivious to her and she is getting desperate. It is affecting her work. She can’t concentrate as she should. It is affecting her private life. She isn’t eating or sleeping properly. Her moods are mercurial at best, erratic at worst. Something has to give soon. She can’t go on like this.

She is even toying with the idea of leaving the island. But should she take such a drastic step without making sure of his indifference towards her? IS he indifferent? How to know for sure once and for all?

Sometimes she thinks she should just ask him. _How hard could it be? Just open your mouth and say… what? Something. Anything! What would he say in return? How bad could it be?_ She dreads rejection. She thrills at the possibilities.

But her greatest fear is that he will find someone else while she dithers. She could lose him to another woman before she herself has a chance to act... or work up the courage to act.

She has not seen any sign of change in his private life. She keeps a close watch of his comings and goings. Manys the night she stands just inside the trees, watching his darkened windows, thinking of him sleeping alone. Manys the morning she arrives early to listen to him move about his home getting ready for work. She loves to listen to the shower. She really loves the small sounds his clothing makes as he dresses. She knows she is overstepping his boundaries by miles and he would have every right to be furious with her but she is simply too worn down and weary to resist anymore.

Something has to change and soon or she will do something she will live to regret. She can feel it building up inside her like a low static charge… or bees humming under her skin. Something. Anything. Soon.

And it happens the morning of the bordello.

Fidel is working the crime scene. Dwayne and Camille are taking statements. Richard paces silently and ‘uses his super powers’ as Fidel likes to call it. Everything is proceeding by the book until Madame Rose’s interview. Dwayne actually blushes and stands up when she enters the room. Fidel drops his evidence case. Richard stops pacing. Camille looks up to see three men looking at one woman… and that woman looking at only one man… HER man!

Camille checks twice to make sure. She can’t believe it. That woman is giving Richard a slow once-over and he is returning the attention without a blush, stammer, or fidget.

“Ah, Madame Rose, I presume?” he says coolly.

The woman is elegance itself exuding confidence, assurance, sophistication, and a panther-like sexuality that scorches Camille’s sensibilities. The woman smiles the tiniest of smiles, glides much closer than necessary, and assures him that she is. Camille’s radar is blaring but all she can do is watch as Richard is vamped within an inch of his life.

And he responds! He smiles. Rose takes his arm and leads him out into the gardens where they walk and talk for a long time. Camille hears some of their discussion as they pass through the open French doors… how pleased she is to finally meet the famous and esteemed Detective Inspector Poole... how the reports she’s heard of his marvelous abilities have been sadly understated… she had observed him for some time before entering the room and she is simply fascinated by his obviously intelligent demeanor and methods… and then they are out of ear-shot.

Camille seethes in outraged horror! She watches them walk, heads together, discussing something of great import. Something surprises him at one point. He turns toward the manse but Rose’s hand catches his chin and turns him back to her. He stands rapt under her spell.

They are outside too long.

Camille watches helplessly. So THIS is the kind of woman he wants?! All this time she had assumed he was pining for his ‘English roses’… pale skinned, meek and mild aproned brewers of tea. All this time she’s been trying to shift his perspective to see HER as a suitable romantic partner but she has obviously been wasting her time trying to attract his attention. Not only is Camille no ‘rose’, English or otherwise, but she could NEVER be Rose.

It is hopeless.

The rest of the day passes in sheer misery. She has to wait for Ri… D. I. Poole to finish his rapprochement with Rose then drive him back to the office. He never says a word. He is obviously entranced. He sits quietly at his desk for some time then leaves early for no apparent reason.

 _I know where you’re going_ , thinks Camille. _Who can resist perfection?_

Dwayne and Fidel had talked in hushed tones all afternoon about the establishment and the rumored clientele. Once D. I. Poole leaves, they openly discuss Rose’s beauty and fabled skills as the most accomplished madam in the Caribbean. Camille says very little. It’s just noise to her.

Misreading her mood, Dwayne says, “The Chief seemed quite taken with Madame, didn’t he? Funny he got on so well with her. He doesn’t usually get on with women a’tall.”

Fidel speaks up, “I think he’s lonely. There’s no one here for him. There’s no one back home.”

Dwayne snaps his fingers, “Hey! Mebee he’s gone back to check his facts. She’d welcome his visit. I saw the way she was watchin’ him earlier today. Like a big well-fed cat. She watched you a lot too, Camille. Maybe she swings both ways.” He has the nerve to laugh!

Fidel muses, “Oh, I don’t think she’s so bad. I’ve heard she’s patched up more marriages than she’s broken. It’s said she had one great love and vowed never to love again until someone truly exceptional was ‘sent from the heavens’.”

 _Exceptional… from heaven… dropping out of the sky…?_ That hit too close to home. “One thing we know for sure. She has horrible taste in men!” Camille roars as she stalks out of the office, unconcerned at Dwayne and Fidel’s surprise. She has to get some fresh air. She is smothering.

It is very late when she makes her way home. She has no idea where she’s been, it is all a blur. She’d tried to stay away but she’d found herself outside his little house and he wasn’t there. She is miserably sure she knows where he is. She’s waited too long. Her worst fear has come true.

He has found someone and it isn’t Camille Bordey.

Sleep didn’t come that night. She tosses and turns, tortured by visions of Richard in the arms of another. Everything she hungers for is being enjoyed by Rose. His scent, his sounds, his touch… gifts now bestowed elsewhere. She cries hot tears of rage, loss, and bereavement. When grey light shows in the east, she calls in, leaves a message that she is sick.

She needs time to come to grips with this nightmare. Maybe she needs to pack up and leave? Maybe she needs to leave and never come back? Plans for escape whirl in her head until she passes out from sheer exhaustion, pillow wet with tears.

When she wakes, her head is thumping. _Oh, I’ve made myself truly sick. Good. At least I didn’t lie._ She slumps at the side of her bed, feverish plans jumbled and chaotic but the main idea remains. She has to leave. How to accomplish it without losing face? _What will I tell Maman? Oh, will this banging head never stop?_ But no, it isn’t her head. Someone is knocking at her front door.

 _I’m not home_ , she thinks, _I’ve never really been home. Now I’ll never have a home. Not without… Oh, god! Now I’m hearing his voice! Get out of my head! I’m done with you!_

The banging on the door stops. Good. She is just getting up the strength to stagger to the bathroom for aspirin when she hears her name called from the back yard. Holding her aching head in both hands, she peeks out. It is Richard.

_No! Surely not!! Can he be so oblivious that he is here to tell me the good news himself? Maybe he thinks I will be happy for him? Maybe he thinks I will congratulate him? Didn’t he know I will smell that woman on him? See her touch all over him? Hear the echoes of his satisfaction? How can I bear it? I won’t. I can’t. He will have to be happy on his own._

“Camille. I know you’re there. Come down.”

She crouches beneath her window, hands over her mouth, tears threatening again.

“Camille. Please. I have something I need to say to you.”

That did it. How dare he? “I won’t hear it. Go away. Leave me alone.” She sounds like a tired child.

“Camille, Rose sends you a message.”

Rage flares up. She can’t believe the gall of that woman! _Who is she to send ME anything?! Did she send Richard one last time as a cruel gesture of defeat? Look upon the face of your beloved, fool, for I have stolen him away… and it was so easy. All you had to do was tell him... listen to him… love him._

Huddled beneath the window, weeping, she jerks in shock when he touches her shoulder.

END part 1


	9. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 2 of 6

She stiffens and lurches away, falling onto the floor. He tries to catch her but she crabs away, putting distance between them.

He remains kneeling, watching her, offers his handkerchief.

She grabs it and scrubs at her face, “Oh, thanks! Such a gentlemen! How dare you show your face here? Come to give me the good news? Great! Congratulations!! Now go away!!” She throws the soaked square of linen. It hits him on the chest and falls to the floor ignored.

He studies her. She realizes how awful she must look and turns her back to him, “Just go. Please leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you.”

She hears a quiet huff of amusement, “That will be an absolute first. A silent Camille Bordey.”

She shrugs, trying to calm down, “How did you get in?”

“I climbed the vine.”

She whirls to face him, “You? Climbed THAT vine? It’s covered in thorns!” She looks at his hands. They are bleeding.

“I know.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, it does, a bit.”

“But why?! Why would you do such a dangerous thing? You could have FALLEN! Onto the STONES!”

His quiet observation is very disturbing. This isn’t the Richard Poole she knows. He is different.

Snorting, fresh tears springing anew, she swallows bitter defeat. Of course he is different! He’s spent all night with Madame Rose. She has heard the stories. She knows he is on another planet now, inaccessible to ordinary mortal woman. Her heart twists.

He touches her lightly on the shoulder to get her attention, “I have a message for you.” He jerks his hand back at the blazing glare she shoots him. _What did I say wrong NOW?_ he wonders. She is slowly rising into a crouch he recognizes with amazement. She is readying herself to attack! He rises hurriedly, hands up to fend her off, “Camille? What is it? Why are you so upset?”

“I am NOT upset!” she hisses. “You make boopsie-eyes at that hussy all day long then sneak off to be with her right in front of me… I mean US… and now you expect me to be HAPPY for you? Are you in-SANE?! Or is this just the way you English handle ‘personal’ needs?”

He had mouthed 'boopsie-eyes?' with a half-smile but this fades as she continues speaking. He can see it in her eyes, she wants to punch him.

Clearing his throat, he backs up a step, “Well, yes. I mean no. What DO I mean? You always confuse me! I had a lovely little speech all ready but now I’ve forgotten the whole thing.”

He scrubs his face, heaves a big sigh. Dropping his hands he asks, “Camille, what do you think happened yesterday?”

End part 2

 


	10. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 3 of 6

She is speechless! “What do I THINK happened yesterday??!”

He nods, polite strained interest on his face. She knows that look. The clues are in, he has a theory and he is on the hunt. But the hunt for what? He is waiting for something that the case hinges upon. He is a total enigma to her. How could she have ever thought she understood him in the slightest?

She begins ticking things off on her fingers, “Well, let’s see… you met the most beautiful woman in the Caribbean, fell under her spell, spent the night, show up here reeking of her, then climb up the back wall like a LUNATIC!”

He smiles small and tight, “And by ‘spent the night’ you mean…?”

She throws her hands up and whirls away again. She doesn’t want him to see the hurt and loss she knows is burning across her cheeks, “Oh, go away! You must be truly besotted if you think I’m going to ask how it went! I won’t listen to all the gory details. Go back and just tell her ‘mission accomplished’!”

“Camille. Look at me.”

She shakes her head, making her headache flare.

“Camille, please.”

She crosses her arms.

“Smell me then.”

She froze. What?

“Check me for ‘reek’.”

She peeks over her shoulder at him. He is standing with his arms out, very serious, “Come on, Sergeant. Check your facts.”

She slowly turns. He waits. She takes slow steps towards him, leans in very carefully and sniffs his shirt sleeve. Nothing except his own clean smell. Against her will she leans in closer, sampling his bicep, his shoulder, his collar. The puff of his quiet chuckle against her cheek brings her back to her senses. How long has she stood there smelling him? She’d even closed her eyes. _Oh, the irony of it. I finally get under his guard and it is too late!_

Snapping upright, she grumps, “So you had a shower.”

He shakes his head, “No shower. I came straight here.”

She glowers, “Straight here? From her bed!?”

He has the grace to blush but carries on regardless of the death glare aimed at him, “Yes, even I know how it looks. Camille, I spent PART of the night with Rose but I did NOT sleep with her. That was never our intent.”

“YOUR intent? Hers and yours? What other ‘intent’ IS there between a man and a woman?”

“Well, WE’RE here… together… right now… a man and a woman… and what’s happening?”

Her eyes well up alarmingly and her mouth begins to tremble. She drops her head into her hands and wails, “NOTHING! Always nothing! I try and I try but you won’t have me. Now it’s too late. You have Rose and I have NOTHING!”

Gulping, it is a few moments before she realizes she is crying on his shoulder. He is trying to hold her without using his injured hands.

She pushes him away, “NO! I can’t do this, Richard. It’s all or nothing. I won’t share! I’m leaving… going away. You can settle down with her and I’ll start a new life somewhere else.”

He gently pries her hands away from her face, wincing at the blood smears he leaves on her fingers, “But THAT’S the message! You WILL start a new life… and it will be here… with me.”

He has to repeat it twice before she hears him and her shocked eyes meet his.

END part 3


	11. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 4 of 6

“What?” she trembles. “What did you say?”

He watches her closely, holding her gaze, “I said you will be Mrs. Richard Poole… if you’ll have me.”

She clutches her aching head, looking wildly around the room. She literally loses all feelings in her legs and falls, thankfully, onto the edge of the bed. Nausea rolls up and she throws herself forward to lean onto her knees to ward off vertigo. Gasping, she feels the bed dip as he sits beside her. She can’t look up. She is going to be sick.

He is trying to rub her back but it is awkward, “Um, do you mind if I wash off the blood? It’s interfering with my attempts to woo you.”

“WOO ME? I’m going to throw up… or faint… maybe both… and you want to wash up? What in the world are you TALKING about??!” He leaves her briefly as she tries to quell her stomach.

She hears him rummaging around in her bathroom. He comes back to sit beside her after a few minutes. She sees he has put on band aids but one wound still seeps. She takes his hand and kisses it automatically, “Kissing makes it better,” she whispers.

“Oh, I DO hope so,” he whispers back. He leans in to kiss her but she rears back, holding up a hand. She sees how close he is, eyes gleaming half-lidded, lips parted.

Her heart falters then roars into overdrive. She leaps to her feet; angry, confused, exhilarated.

“Oh, no, you DON’T, buster! I want an explanation right HERE and right NOW! How can you expect me to accept your ridiculous proposal when you are fresh from the arms of another woman? Do you test drive ALL your models before you buy? Is that it? Now it’s MY turn? What? She didn’t satisfy? Not up to your usual perfect English standards? Even I’M not stupid enough to believe THAT! Madame Rose is famous for her ability to pleasure men and you want me to believe that you resisted her charms so easily?!” Furious, she is now pacing the floor, working herself up into a righteous rant. The headache is fading, washing away in the tidal wave of her roaring heart.

He watches her stride in angry circles, a satisfied smirk barely showing, “Well, my girl, you can believe whatever you want… or you can calm down, sit down, and listen.”

Looking daggers at him, she presses her lips to a tight line, crosses her arms, and throws herself back onto the bedside beside him… not meeting his gaze. He sighs, leans forward onto his own knees and clasps his hands, “You are universally lovely. Such a firecracker. How did I manage to resist for so long?”

She unbent a little in surprise, “DID you resist? Why?”

He sighs, looking down, “Oh, the usual. Utterly useless with women. Clueless. Morbidly afraid of humiliating myself. Fear of rejection. Conflict of interest. Fraternization rules. Heart broken too many times. Age difference. Culture shock. Take your pick.”

She is shocked! So much going on in that handsome head and she hadn’t known ANY of it! But it explains so MUCH! She takes a deep breath and matches his pose, “Oh. That’s a lot to consider. What was your solution?”

“Obviously what I do best, dither helplessly and hope for a miracle.”

END part 4


	12. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 5 of 6

“And?”

“And Rose provided the miracle.”

She can’t help herself. She puffs up in possessive rage, “Oh. HER.” Ice would be warmer.

He holds up both hands, “Now hear me out before you beat me up.”

She subsides but barely, “OK. I’m calm. I’m cool. Tell me. Then I’ll beat you up.”

He smiles ruefully, “Firecracker.” She gives him a threatening look and he hastens on, “Right. We were working the scene. Madame Rose came in. We went out into the garden. She said she had vital information that was a matter of life or death.”

He pauses at Camille’s loud snort. He waits patiently until she gestures _sorry, please continue_ , “A matter of MY life or death. She then told me something so surprising that I could NOT believe it. I wanted to return to the house but she advised me to wait and bide my time… that things needed to work out according to the ‘old rules’.”

Intrigued despite herself, Camille asks, “What ‘old rules’?”

Richard gives a satisfied chuff, “Chase after the one you love until you get caught.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I know, right? We had to walk for another half hour until I understood. But even then, I couldn’t see how to achieve my goal. Rose asked me to return later in the day for further discussion and so I went.”

Camille snorts, “Oh. Dis-CUS-sion. Is THAT what they’re calling it these days?”

He crosses his heart, “Camille, I PROMISE you nothing happened. I kept my tie on the whole time.”

It slips out before she can stop it, “Mmm. The tie. That’s the first thing to go.”

He clears his throat, “Er, yes, quite. At any rate, she had analyzed the evidence and made a surprising deduction and put it to me…”

The snort is VERY loud.

“My god, you’ve got a dirty mind! Anyway, I went through my whole list of ‘why nots’ and she refuted each one. What an amazing mind.”

The growl hurried him on.

“Turns out she’d been observing us the whole time and saw the situation as plain as day.”

“What situation?”

“OUR situation. Yours and mine. The whole unrequited love duet. I can tell you, it took an awful lot of discussion to convince me that she wasn’t barmy and I wasn’t delusional.”

“But, Richard, for a duet you need two partners."

“Yes.”

“Is that you and her?”

“No.”

“Is it you and me?”

“Yes.”

“And unrequited love…”

“Can become requited quite easily. Is that even a proper word?”

“I’m going to stitch it into a sampler if it isn’t. How easily?”

“By saying three simple words in the right order. I. You. Love.”

“But that’s the right order in French.”

“So it is. Well, I have to say, in proper English and as a proper Englishman… I… Love… You. Does that translate?”

Almost too quiet to hear, she says, “Je t’adore. Maintenant. Toujours.”

Smiling, he sits back, pats her hand, “Well, I’m glad that’s all cleared up. What a relief! Now, what do you say?”

END part 5


	13. Thank you, Madame Rose

**Thank You, Madame Rose**

Part 6 of 6

Surprised by his bonhomie, she blinks, “Say?”

“To my proposal. Oh, bother, half a mo.” He slips off the bed and kneels on bended knee. “Ahem, Camille Bordey, will you please put me out of my misery and be my…” His mouth is stopped by hers as she folds into his arms for a long swooning moment. When he has his lip back, he laughs, “Ah, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, if I may?”

“Yes, you may. And I’m going to make you repeat it many times because I’ve waited so long to hear it.”

“Yes. Sorry. Clueless, remember?”

She is crying again and he just holds her. Finally he offers her a fresh handkerchief.

As she wipes her face she laughs, “How many of these things do you carry?”

He murmurs into her hair, “With temperamental French women, you can never have enough.”

“And with one stoic, buttoned-up, stubborn English man I will never EVER have enough.”

He laughs, “Please, madam, I am as good as married. Done like dinner. You’ll have to ply your feminine wiles on some other hapless male.” He leans forward to whisper in her ear, “She’s a firecracker, you know. Explodes all over the place without warning. It isn’t safe for man nor beast around her.”

Taking him by his shirt front, she lays back on the bed, drawing him down on top of her, “Oh… man or beast. Do I get to choose?”

He blushes but his assurance doesn’t waver. _That must have been SOME discussion,_ she thinks. “I think it’s a package deal but I will strive to please on all fronts.”

She is smiling, gently undulating beneath him, “Ummm… package… strive… please… fronts…”

He kisses her, “Tsk. Mind in the gutter. What’s a man to do?”

She is shucking clothing. He is definitely feeling a draught. “He will beg for mercy. Then he will beg for more.”

Looking down at her, tear-stained and glowing, he growls, “Oh, I certainly HOPE so.”

Epilogue #1

Tangled limbs, slow breathing, dusk falling, hours later, she remembers to ask about the message. He rolls her onto her back and mounts again, “Mazel tov.”

Epilogue #2

Many more hours later, safely tucked into his side, she smiles into the once lonesome room that is now so very full, and sleepily thinks, _I’m going to send that woman, let’s see now… one… two… three?... yes, THREE dozen roses… dark pink for thanks, appreciation, gratitude… soon as I can walk or pick up my phone or speak clearly._

She snuzzles in a tiny fraction closer, kisses warm skin… HERS now.

_But I’ll leave a thorn on each one… a reminder and a warning… he’s guarded now… closely and VERY carefully. Thanks, Madame Rose, but I’ll take it from here._

She slips back into sleep with her arms and heart full of her dearest desire.

Epilogue #3

The next day, SIX dozen roses, dark pink and peach, cause a bit of a sensation at a certain sedate residence. Only one person got the message but she knew enough to check for thorns first.

END - Thank you, Madame Rose


	14. That Magic Touch

**That Magic Touch**

“What’s got your interest today?” Fidel casually asks Camille as he joins her at the break table. She is face-first in a section of the newspaper and he has to ask her twice.

“Um? Oh… did you read this article on Cuddle Shops?”

“What’s that?” grins Dwayne as he plops down beside her, “Sounds like my kinda place!” as he begins to read over her shoulder. She turns and gives him an ‘oh you’ look before going back to the article.

“Yes, but it doesn’t pertain to me. I have Juliet and Rosie. I get more than enough tactile input.”

“Lucky man! And, if you’re referrin’ to cuddles, I sure don’ need help there.”

“Hmm, I wasn’t thinking about you two at all…” she murmurs.

Above her bowed head, the two men’s eyes meet for a long moment then slowly turn to look back up the room to the source of most of the excitement that happens in the station these days.

_Oh, lord, now what?_ they both think.

Their concerned thoughts are brought back to earth by her next words, “It says here that physical touch is a basic human need, that it’s hard-wired into our DNA due to our evolution as social creatures with highly structured group survival dynamics…”

Fidel is nodding. Dwayne frowns, “Well, that’s sure a mouthful. What does it mean?”

“It means that we need each other more than we think we do,” Fidel murmurs. “The article says that men are especially affected as we’re not allowed to simply touch others... not other men because that’s ‘gay’, and not children because that’s ‘pedo’…”

Dwayne looks concerned now, “…and women? What about women?”

“It says here that most men don’t know how to touch women in a non-sexual way…”

Dwayne grins, “There’s another way?”

This time Dwayne earns a hard look from both his colleagues.

“Oh… gotcha, sorry. So, this is a real thing, then?”

“It says here that a test in the 50’s proved that baby monkeys would cuddle with a terry-cloth ‘mother’ and starve to death… rather than cling to a metal ‘mother’ that provided milk. That’s awful!! Those poor babies!”

“Starve to death? Really?”

“Um hum, for the average person it is a need but not a starved kind of need. Most people have family and partners and good friends that provide this life-giving outlet… but some…” Here she falters. This time three pairs of eyes look up the room.

The source of their concern doesn’t even look up. He’d read the article with everything else this morning over his first cup of coffee. He heartily agrees with the science of the piece but not its blanket statement that ALL humans needed touch. HE certainly didn’t. No, an English man is his own castle and woe betide anyone who ventured to breach HIS ramparts! But he enjoys listening to his team’s conversations during break. It keeps him grounded. Connected. Especially Camille… her thoughts… her thoughts sometimes changed his thoughts… and… actually… now that he thinks about it…

Camille turns back to the table, lowers her voice, jerking her head back over her shoulder to indicate ‘he can hear us’, “These Cuddle Shops cater mostly to men dealing with stress, anxiety, and loss. Therapy helps to increase attentiveness, decrease depression, and boosts immune systems. It improves social behaviour and relationships.”

“Well, that describes someone we all know to a ‘T’,” whispers Fidel.

“Yeah, but I’m not volunteerin’!” mouths Dwayne.

“And THAT’s why there’s a problem. Companionable touching is not the same as sexual touching. Remember when I was so upset over Aimee’s death?” They both nod. “Do you remember how you both comforted me?” They nod again. “That’s the difference.” Silently, she remembers how HE had tried to comfort her too… so stiff and awkward… but he had tried. Another memory swims up. Yes, he had tried but there had been something else, hadn’t there? Something deeper than a friend trying to help another friend. Yes, she thinks it was… and if so…

Dwayne distracts her, “But how do you know the difference? Until you touch the person?”

“Maybe people should just get their libidos under control and try not to be men and women but just people!” Camille hotly states, forgetting to be quiet. This is something she’s thought for years, ever since puberty, actually. She doesn’t see the thoughtful nod at the far end of the room.

Dwayne holds up his hands in placation, “OK, OK, I was just askin’.”

“To answer your question… you can’t, can you?” Fidel concludes.

_Oh, I don’t know,_ she thinks. _Sometimes you know from across a crowded room… or an office… or an ocean…_

It is several days later when she has an epiphany.

The case isn’t going well. He is missing the one vital clue that will collapse the pile of jack-straws into an orderly pattern that will reveal all. She can see him racking his brains, trying to get a handle on the motive. He oscillates between standing at the whiteboard and flipping through the files on his desk, searching for traction. He is idly rubbing his shoulder, rotating the joint and trying to stretch it out.

_Has he ever recovered from my stupid throw-down on him there by the spa pool,_ she wonders? _I never apologized for that… and I should have. Just my luck to injure the only man I need in peak physical condition!_

Without really thinking about it (yeah, right… she knew the other men would be out for at least another hour), she goes to him and pushes him down into his chair. At his shocked look, she quietly says, “Is your sore shoulder my fault? If so, I’m very sorry. That stupid move at the pool was me showing off and I went too far. I never meant to hurt you.”

He frowns up at her, “No, I pulled it a few days ago at the house. I was sore for a few hours after your demonstration of self-sufficiency but nothing I couldn’t stretch out.”

“Well, I’m still sorry. I should have apologized immediately but I was embarrassed.”

“No need to be embarrassed. It was my own fault for laying hands on you without forethought. You had every right to chastise me.”

“Chastisement wasn’t exactly on my mind at the time. Right now I’m thinking comfort…”

He starts to say something but stops when she begins massaging his shoulder. He is stiff with surprise… and something else… she can feel it radiating up her arms. So, she might be right!

_Well, here begins the lesson… and the experiment._

She doesn’t say anything more and neither does he. As his tight shoulder relaxes she moves across his back to work both. He sighs and drops his head. She takes it for the invitation it is and begins tiny circular caresses at his nape. She doesn’t think he realizes when he begins to hum. She is VERY aware of him slipping off his jacket and laying it across his lap.

He quietly lays his head down on his crossed forearms and gives over. Her hands pause for the barest fraction then she gives over too. It is a very stress-relieving interlude for both of them. When she can no longer keep her mind on ‘companionable touching’, she pats him friendly-like on both shoulders but he doesn’t sit back up. She stoops down. He is asleep. She smiles privately… this is, perhaps, the truest sign of his trust in her. She is pleased.

When the officers clatter in almost an hour later, he rouses and is wide awake by the time they charge inside and begin throwing information at him… most of which he second-guesses correctly.

The three of them jostle around the whiteboard and motive quickly takes shape. YES! The final clue is here… and the case takes off!

From her desk, she throws out suggestions and surmises, being the professional D.S. that she is… but her fingertips are still tingling. He sends the officers out on new assignments and they leave again with purposeful steps. The cells will be full tonight! When they are surely gone, he studies the whiteboard for a while then slowly turns to regard her, one arm crossed at his waist, a hand still cupping his chin.

She can tell he is dealing with another puzzle now… and she’s pretty sure she’s got the missing clue.

Hesitantly, he speaks, “Thank you for…earlier. Normally I would never allow… you know… but your conversation earlier made me wonder… so I thought I should be a bit more trusting… and it worked! When I woke up, everything made sense, thanks to you.” He gives a small smile, “Maybe we should put ‘therapeutic massage’ into the office budget.” At her bland look, he frowns, “I’m not overstepping the boundaries here, am I? I didn’t misread your intent, did I? I’m afraid I’m one of those men who can’t tell the difference. All touch is to be avoided… except in emergencies, of course.”

“Well, this WAS an emergency… and yes, I meant it as companionable touching. Thank you for accepting it. It would have been awkward otherwise… and don’t worry, I’ll only do it when we’re alone.”

“Oh, good. Well, I look forward to our next session then… or is that inappropriate? I’m absolutely no good at this sort of thing. I’ll have to depend on you to be my guide here.”

“No need to apologize. We can’t have our D.I. going to ‘outside help’, now can we?”

He colours slightly, “No. We can’t.” Looking away, he adds, “And I wouldn’t want to… if you’ll allow me the personal privilege of saying so. Pardon me if that crosses the line between professional colleagues.”

She watches him tense up just the tiniest bit and eases his mind as happily as she’d eased his shoulder, “Not to worry, your personal privileges are just beginning… if you don’t mind my saying so either.”

Their eyes meet and, after a long thoughtful pause, his eyebrows quirk a silent question. She slips him a wink and he coughs, smooths his tie, and goes back to his desk to begin wrapping up the case… but not before nodding once, very firmly, at her smile.

Another 10 minutes went by in silent chores before she looks up. His pen stills. “I can’t stop thinking about those poor starving babies. Do you think someone finally took pity on them and saved them?”

“I certainly hope so. It would be very cruel to watch another sentient creature starve to death for something that you have in such abundance.” Here he shoots her a glance that she has no trouble whatsoever recognizing, “Cruel… and very French.”

She sighs continentally, shrugs a Gallic shoulder, “Oui. The French can be a cruel race… which is why I have always been thankful that I am only half-French.” She shoots him a look back.

“Ah. I knew there had to be a silver lining in there somewhere. Unfortunately, I am totally English.”

“It matters not. Old dog, new tricks… also… new dog, old tricks.”

He swallows, “Right… tricks. Oh, bollocks! Now I’ve lost my train of thought!”

She stands, “Would you like another session to help you organize yourself?”

“NO! Sorry. No, not just now. I don’t think it will work so well this time.” There is a very loud pause, then, “Perhaps later?” in a low hopeful tone.

“Oui,” she resettles into her chair, “Perhaps later. Perhaps somewhere less public…”

“Oh, yes. In which case, perhaps my tie…”

“Oh, indeed. The tie goes. Nothing impedes the full healthy circulation like restrictive clothing.”

Slowly gathering himself, he allows one deep breath to sink the excitement deep into his bones for safe keeping then refocuses on his desk in order to get through the rest of the day.

Tonight… ah, that will be wide open for discussion… apologies… and personal privileges.

END


	15. Advice

**Advice**

“You know, Chief, if you ever need any advice on women then I’m your go-to-guy, right?”

Richard raises his eyes up from his paperwork and meets the wise knowing gaze of the one man he did NOT want to discuss his problems with. He smooths his tie and drops his pen, picks it up, drops it again. “Why, officer Myers, I have no…”

“Yes, you do. I’m a cop, a GOOD cop, and you know what that means?”

“It means you have eyes in the back of your head and subsonic hearing,” mumbles his boss, realizing that of COURSE Dwayne would know everything. The daily struggle to ignore her, the fierce denial of his feelings, the sheer magnetic attraction he feels pulling on him every minute of every day… of course Dwayne would see it. If it’s one thing Dwayne Myers knows from A to Z, it is women. He gives the man a suddenly hopeful look… _Dwayne knows women… maybe he would know how to…?_

He clears his throat, “Well, there is ONE little thing that’s been bothering me…”

Dwayne smiles, “Just ONE?”

“Well, yes, just one… that is… how do… how do you let a woman know you’re interested without rushing things? Perhaps overplay your hand and ruin whatever chance you have with her?” It all came rushing out, taking both of them a little bit by surprise.

Dwayne’s eyebrows go up then slowly sink as he leans in and murmurs, “Ah, Chief. No worries there. No need to worry about rushin’. You got time. Hell, you’ve wasted at least a year an’ a half already… so what’s a few more years? Oh, you got LOTS of time!”

Now it is Richard’s turn for raised eyebrows, “A year and a HALF?! What are you talking about?”

Dwayne waves a nonchalant hand over his shoulder towards Camille’s desk, “Her. I’m talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“You wouldn’t be doing that if she was sitting at that desk right now,” Richard grumbles.

Dwayne sits up smartly, “You’re right, there, Chief! She’d be takin’ my head off if she heard me talkin’ to you like this. I gotta say, you are a brave man to even consider takin’ HER on! What made you do it?”

Richard slumps in his chair, “I DON’T KNOW! How is that even possible? One minute we were fighting like cats and dogs and the next… she blind-sided me, somehow! I don’t know HOW it happened. All I know is it’s happened and now I have to deal with it…” a tiny voice, “… and I don’t know how.”

Dwayne listens to all this, nodding and thinking. He heaves a big sign, “Ah, the eternal question, eh? What to do, how to do it, when to do it, an’… WHY?”

“You missed ‘where’.”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘what’, ‘how’, ‘when’, and ‘why’ but you missed ‘where’.”

“No, I didn’! The answer to that is ‘everywhere’.” That came with a big grin at Richard’s uncomfortable manner, “But, seriously, Chief, what’s yer hurry? So what if every day squandered is more lovin’ yer missin’ out on? Like I said, it’s been a year an’ a half.”

Richard looks up from his tightly clasped hands, “Has it REALLY been a year and a half?”

“Oh, yeah. By my reckonin’ it started right before yer bout of fever. Mebee even before THAT. Women tend to think things over for a bit before they begin sendin’ out signals, you know.”

“Signals? What sort of signals?”

“You want a list?”

“Well, yes, if possible! I need all the help I can get. I’ve often thought that women should come with some kind of manual so we can at least stand a chance with them. It’s a bit of an unfair contest.”

“Amen to that, Chief. Well, let’s see. Eye contact. Pickin’ fights. Being’ protective. Motherin’. Bringin’ your name up every other sentence when talkin’ to co-workers. Startin’ to wear MUCH nicer clothes to work…”

“You’re alluding to ‘the shorts’, aren’t you?”

“YES I AM! Good god, man, how can you ignore that?”

“It hasn’t been easy, let me tell you, but if I react then she will know I noticed. If she knows I noticed then she will know…” He runs down, defeated by his circuitous logic.

“Yeah, I can see that’s a problem, all right. Well, if you wait a bit, things will calm down on their own.”

“They will? How?”

“Well, as you age, the urge lessens, so I’m told. Right now it’s all sound an’ fury an’ hormones an’ such. Later in life it’s more quiet-like, more sedate, kinda civilized.” Although Dwayne is gazing off into the middle distance, he can see the Chief swelling up with indignation, “Yeah, it can get messy. You don’ want all that fuss an’ bother clutterin’ up your life, do you?”

“Well, I jolly well MIGHT!”

Dwayne continues to consider the horizon, “Naw, you’re English. Here, why don’ you let me make you a nice cup of tea an’ the feelin’ will pass.”

“Maybe I don’t WANT it to pass, did you ever consider THAT?”

“Honestly, no. You don’ seem the type… the suit… the ties… the manner…”

“What’s WRONG with my manner?” Outraged manhood is starting to assert itself.

“Oh, you know. The ladies can wait… take ‘em or leave ‘em… got a good book to read…not interested… that sorta thing.”

“Are you saying I’m not interested in women?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

“WHAT do they say?!”

“They say ‘Is he gay or is he European?’ You know… that song? From the play?”

There is a long hot silence as the Chief regains control of his voice, then, “I can NOT believe you just said that to me!”

“Well, England is part of the EU, isn’ it?”

“I am NOT European!”

“Or gay?”

“Certainly not! The very idea! I’m wounded to the quick!”

“Now, see, you say stuff like that an’ what am I to think?”

“You can keep whatever you’re thinking to yourself, thank you very much! Where’s Camille?”

“Out in the back buildin’ lookin’ for some misplaced evidence, why?”

The Chief stands abruptly, squaring his shoulders, a renewed gleam in his eye, “It’s time I defended my honour, it seems.” As he brushes past Dwayne and heads for the back door he mutters, “European, indeed!”

Dwayne watches him go, a satisfied, job-well-done smile on his face. Oh, it had worked like a charm.

Being an expert on women has its perks.

Not just women are putty in his hands.

END


	16. Fidel Tries

**Fidel Tries**

“You are such a lucky man. You’re young, tall, handsome. You found the love of your life and started a family. You’re on your way professionally. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“What about you, sir?”

“Oh, I’m resigned to my fate. I’m satisfied with my job but no family for me. I missed that boat long ago. I’ll have to make do watching you raise your children. Baby-sitting isn’t so bad. I don’t mind being ‘uncle Richard’ to Rosie.”

“Oh, sir, don’t talk like that.” Fidel ducks his head, bites his lip, then meets his boss’ eye more or less as bravely as he can, “Please don’t take this as a sign of disrespect but I have to speak up. It’s NOT too late for you. You can…”

“I can what? Find someone mad enough to marry me? Settle down and have a brood of little green-eyed weeds? No. It won’t happen.”

“That’s not true! And your children will be beautiful!”

“What? Why would you say something like that? It’s not like my mad future wife could be anyone lovely like…,” he waves a hand towards Camille and Juliet, very lovely in their party dresses, “... like Juliet... and, er, Camille too, I suppose.”

Fidel can’t find the words. Juliet sees her husband’s face and comes over. Fidel stutters, “I’m trying to tell the Chief...” She nods and they whisper together. Juliet then turns and asks Richard to walk with her. She takes his arm and leads him away. He is bemused. It’s not often a beautiful woman seeks his company.

When they are sufficiently distant to guarantee privacy, he turns to her, “Now… what’s the problem? Fidel seems quite upset about something. I will help if I can.”

“Sorry, sir, but YOU’RE the problem.”

“ME?” he blurts.

“Yes. Fidel loves you like an older brother. He wants to grow up and be you.”

Richard ducks his head, embarrassed but pleased. He has done some good after all.

“And he wishes our happiness on everyone but especially on YOU because happiness is within your reach. You just don’t see it.”

Richard looks at her, speechless. Juliet thinks, _his eyes really are the most amazing colour._ Finally he gets himself back under control and turns to stroll again. Very quietly, he asks, “What don’t I see?”

Juliet frowns and thinks hard before answering, “Camille will absolutely KILL me but you have to know.”

“Know what?”

“Camille loves you. Has for a long time now. Why can’t you love her back?”

Richard turns to stone beside her. She waits. Fidel has described this exact thing when the Chief is on the threshold of a break-through. He is about to solve the puzzle…

He comes back to life, “That can’t be true.”

Juliet sighs… or maybe not. “Why can’t it be true?”

“Well, for a myriad of reasons. I’m too old for her. I’m her superior officer. She’s bloody scary and she has loads of young men vying for her attention. I’m English. She’s French. Her mum will murder me. People will laugh. It’s just not possible. It simply CAN’T be true.”

Juliet shakes his arm to break him out of his mental loop, “Sir? Richard?”

“Yes?”

“You haven’t said anything about how you feel about her.”

“Oh. It doesn’t matter. She’d never have me.”

Juliet hides a small smile. So. “Can you say that with 100% certainty? Has nothing in her words or actions ever hinted otherwise? No touch? No teasing? Nothing?”

He seems to be thinking back over a long period of time... two years by her reckoning, “Well, now that you jog my memory…”

She pats his arm, “There! You see! You are a very intelligent man… and a gentleman. That’s rare these days. I found Fidel. Camille found you. Why can’t you make her as happy as I am?”

“But WOULD she? Would she be happy with me? I’m just a quiet man. Not an Adonis.”

“You are HER quiet man. You have been for over a year now. Can’t you see it?”

Glancing over Juliet’s shoulder, Richard sees the look in Camille’s eyes so far away. He sees very clearly.

Juliet glances back too, turns back to Richard, “You see THAT, surely?”

An amazed smile is spreading over his face. _Wow, AND a killer smile_. “Oh, yes. I see,” he sighs as he continues to look at Camille.

Juliet shakes his arm. He looks down at her, stars still in his eyes. “And if you decide NOT to make her an offer… would you consider being my 2nd husband?”

He stands up straight, stiff upper lip to the fore, pats her hand, “Thanks ever so for that very kind offer, my dear, but I’m afraid the Richard train has left the station.” He laughs, “Fidel really is very lucky. I can see why you and Camille are thick as thieves. You’re both cut from the same cloth.”

They begin walking back. Juliet thinks his step is more lively. She slows him down, “It won’t do to give her too much of a shock right here in front of everybody. Perhaps there’s some business back on your home desk that needs her attention? A signature or something?”

He slows, gives her a speculative look, “What a shocking suggestion.”

Just as she is about to apologize for suggesting such a blatantly, not to mention ungentlemanly, sexual maneuver, he murmurs, “Hmmm, I think I can hold out for 15 minutes or so…” He turns to her, a sly smile playing across his mouth, “Do me a favour when we get back?”

“What?”

“When she takes you aside to grill you about our little talk, please tell her that you asked me to be your second husband… and I said I would gladly serve if a better offer doesn’t come up very soon.”

She squeezes his arm, laughs, sees Camille’s glare, and answers him loud enough to be overheard, “Oh, Richard, you say the funniest things! Of course! I’d do anything to see you smile like that again.”

He returns her to Fidel and goes over to the refreshment table. He sees Camille go to Juliet. There is hushed conversation then… utter silence. Fidel laughs.

Juliet and Fidel watch Camille go to Richard. There is hushed conversation. He shrugs. She fumes.

He strolls over to Dwayne and they talk briefly.

Juliet checks Fidel’s watch... EXACTLY fifteen minutes later, Richard takes Camille in tow and they leave to attend to some very important paperwork that he just now remembers is sitting on his desk… at home.

“Shocking,” Juliet whispers, smiling.

Watching them drive away, Fidel muses, “I’d like to be a fly on the wall for THAT conversation!”

“Oh? Time for baby #2, is it?”

Fidel blushes violently then grins, “It’s going to take quite a lot to erase that image from my mind.”

She kisses him, “We can start as soon as Dwayne leaves.” He smiles.

At their look, Dwayne ambles over, grumbling, “Papers! WHAT papers?! The Chief never forgets a paperclip let alone important papers. It must be somethin’ pretty pressin’ for them to leave like that.”

Fidel and Juliet laugh, “Oh, we imagine there is some pressing involved.”

“Well, it’s a good feelin’ to wrap up a case an’ put it to bed. Very satisfyin’!” Dwayne is puzzled as his companions hold each other and laugh. “Er, OK. Is capture imminent? Is someone for the slam? What!? What’s so funny?”

Fidel waves a hand, helpless to explain just now. Juliet pats her husband’s back, “It’s complicated… I’m sure Fidel will tell you all about it… tomorrow. Party’s over, Dwayne. Are you OK to bike home?”

Dwayne grumps, “It’s early yet. I’m off to La Kaz. People there know how to party! You married folk are just too tame for my blood.”

Fidel’s eyes gleam as he nods, “Oh, yes… too tame, that’s us! Off you go.”

“What’s yer rush? OK, I’m off. Mebee I’ll stop at the Chief’s place to see if…”

“NO!” both Bests yell at the same moment. Fidel takes a deep breath, “I mean… no, don’t do that. You know the Chief, early to bed, early…” he falters, another image blaring onto his mental screen.

Juliet saves him, “Yes, best leave the Chief out of your plans for tonight. I just know he will be exhausted after such a strenuous… day. You’ll have a better time on your own, anyway, won’t you?”

Dwayne grins, “Well, I’m seldom on my own but you’re right. I’m off. Don’ do anything I wouldn’ do!”

As they watch Dwayne roar off back to town, the couple sigh happily.

“Mission accomplished,” Juliet says.

“Well, almost accomplished,” Fidel reminds her.

She smiles and leads him into the house, just another couple with a mutual goal in mind.

END


	17. The New Help

**The New Help**

There is new help at La Kaz.

Tourist, female, newly divorced, former restaurant co-owner, at loose ends, a bit lost.

Catherine takes pity on her over a long talk during lunch and asks her to ‘help out a bit’ at La Kaz… just to give her something to occupy her mind while she processes being newly single at the advanced age of 46. Catherine remembers VERY well how it feels to be cast aside. It is during such troubling times that everyone needs a friend.

The new help cleans up, serves, AND, best of all, knows all about tea! This is most welcome as tea is VERY important in this establishment! Tea leads to visits… and visits lead to grandchildren, perhaps.

Well known fact, in some circles.

One odd trait, this woman moves ever so slightly to music. Not just to whatever music is currently playing but also to something she hears in her head when there is silence. She keeps time with a slow almost mournful inner rhythm except when concentrating on something. Can a person dance to sorrow?

She befriends the Chief of Police over tea and it happens thusly.

He comes in. Orders tea. Naturally. Only Catherine is busy and distracted and sends the new help out with the order. When he reaches for the pot, she taps his arm, halting him. Holding up her wrist with watch, she times down the 3 minutes steeping-time then nods for him to pour. He does, bemused. As she leaves, she whispers, “Three minutes for black tea. Well known fact where I come from.”

A bit later, he asks Catherine for the new help’s back story.

“Poor woman, thrown over for a younger woman, lost her home and her livelihood. Lucky for me she washed up at my door. I will try to make her see that Life is still good. I’ve been through it and I know there can be happiness on the other side.”

He pats her hand, “Your joie-de-vivre will do it. Nothing gets you down for long.”

She pats him back, “Nothing that grandchildren won’t cure, oui?”

He gulps and studies the bottom of his cup until she leaves him.   _Relentless woman! As if grandchildren just grew on trees! To get Camille’s attention, I’d have to get her ATTENTION! And how to do THAT? All my little courtesies have gone unnoticed. I’ll have to do something WAY out of my comfort zone to make her see me… but WHAT? A dinner? A dance?_    Here he stills and thinks… _A dance… hmmm._

Over the next few days, he watches the new help surreptitiously; admiring her ability to dance serenely to whatever music is playing. Finally, he works up the nerve to actually comment about it as she delivers another round of perfect tea.

“I wish I could move to music like that. I’d like to go dancing but… two left feet.”

“You don’t have to move your feet to dance.”

“What do you mean?”

She pulls him to his feet. He snaps a quick glance to make sure they are alone before relenting. She plants her feet almost shoulder-width apart, guiding him to do the same, then shows him how to move his hips and shoulders in modest movements. He is just getting the feeling of moving to the music when they are interrupted and he sits back down, flustered.

“I don’t want anyone to see me being so clumsy until I know what I’m doing,” he explains.

“I understand. We need a more private setting. Would you like to come to my hotel room?”

He pales, “Um, no. I can’t risk being seen. Island gossip is swift and merciless. Besides, there’s someone I…” He falters, “How about my beach house? It’s not fancy but it’s private and I’d be much more comfortable making a fool of myself there.”

She laughs, “It’s a date. Pick me up at 7?”

He nods but holds up a cautionary finger, “Not a date. A lesson.”

“Right. A lesson. I’ll be Teacher and you can be the student with two left feet.”

“Fair enough. I’ll pick you up at the end of the block. Please don’t let Catherine see you! I’ll never hear the end of it. She acts very proprietary about me, for some reason…” he mumbles, not wanting to think WHY Catherine acts the way she does.

Later

The beach house. Slow music. The lesson is progressing well.

She had laughed when they’d driven up, “Somehow, I can’t picture you living on a beach all by yourself!” But when she saw the interior, the tidy order, the evidence of his gentlemanly mind everywhere, she takes it back, “It suits you down to the ground!”

He was pleased by that. Sometimes he wonders, _Why am I still here? Wouldn’t I be happier in a bigger place? A nicer place?_   But no, it DOES suit him down to the ground. It suits him because Camille likes it, and Camille… the thought stops there. He has many happy memories of this place and he’ll keep it until… well, until another place is found. With help. Hopefully with help. Yep.

The sun is setting, light is dimming, a kind of golden glow spreads over everything. The lesson is winding down. She is pleased by his progress… all he had needed was encouragement and confidence... easy enough to provide as he is very pleasing on the eyes. She has taken him by the waist, to guide his timing and movements, that’s all… counting the beats, showing him how to adjust his rhythm to keep it slow if he wants. As dusk gathers, they begin to move closer together. He is concentrating on the physics of it. She is lost in the past when things were better.

He suddenly asks, “If I were with a woman, dancing like this, how would I know if she…”

She smiles. _So, it’s like that, is it?_ “…if she likes you?”

He nods, a bit self-consciously, “Yes. What are the signs? The body English?”

“Well, she might take your hand.” She takes his hand which flexes in surprise. “Let her hold you. Clasp gently, don’t be too bold. She needs to know she can trust you.”

“All right. I can do that. Wait and see, right?”

“Right. Then she might run her hands up your arms, like this, but still hold you off in case you make an utter blunder and try to rush her.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I hope. So, it’s still ‘wait and see’?”

“Yes. She is still testing you. Be calm, smile, hold her gaze. After a moment, try stepping in just a bit closer, see what she does.”

“What might she do?”

“Well, if she steps back then you step back but keep dancing. She has to think about it. She might call it off. She might stay where she is. She might step back in. You have to wait for her decision.”

“And… if she calls it off or doesn’t step in?”

“Be cool, carry on. You Brits are famous for that.”

“I can do that. I’ve been doing that for ages now.”

“Personally, I can’t believe she’d call it off. You are very attractive and quite a good dancer.”

He doesn’t hear the compliment. Other things are on his mind. “What if she steps in?”

“Ah, that’s a different dance altogether. She will get closer, bit by bit. You need to project calm, acceptance, like you’re waiting for her. Step in just a tiny bit. Take her hands if she takes yours. If she slips her hands up your arms, like this, then you can place your hands LIGHTLY on her hips, just here, like so.” They dance slowly together, just so.

“What do I say?”

“As little as possible. Let the music and your movements do all the talking.”

He closes his eyes, listens, sees himself dancing with someone else. Likes it. A lot.

Her whispered words right in his ear startle him out of his reverie, “And if she slips her arms around you, gives you possession of her body, then you can step in closer yet, like this.” He is surprised at the shift in the mood. Her arms are around him, their bodies brushing ever so slightly, still keeping time to the music but now it seems a different beat is overlaid, a more primitive pulse, quite thrilling and a bit disturbing.

Her cheek brushes against his. She is humming. She is very warm against him. “Now, if that happens, you put your arms around her and hold her more firmly. Once you’ve reached this stage, I think you can take it from there.”

He swallows. The image is daunting but also damned alluring, “Yes. I think I can. Um…”

She is enjoying holding a man again, the gentle movements, the heat, the beat. She dips her head slightly and nuzzles his temple, plants a soft kiss in the hollow there, feels the soft hairs under her lips, tastes his skin, smells his masculine perfume…

He stiffens and stops moving, breaking her rhythm and her day-dream. She comes back to herself, shocked and a bit embarrassed, “Oh! I’m SO sorry. I broke your concentration!” Stepping back, putting cool space between them, she runs her hands through her hair. “Whew! Sorry. I’m… um… that was a surprise.” She turns away to stop the music, sees how late it is, the failing light.

Turning back, she sees he is embarrassed too. _What a nice man_ , she thinks. _Whoever he is learning to dance for had better appreciate him… or else!_ Trying to put him at ease, she says, “You know, you could hire yourself out. I’d pay good money to dance with you.”

He blushes and shrugs, not sure of himself anymore. This is a dance he knows nothing about.

_And shy as well... Oh, I’d pay good money for a lot more than a dance but I doubt I’ll get the chance._ “Time for me to leave. I don’t think you need any more lessons, do you?” He begins to shake his head in reply but she speaks up suddenly, “Unless you’d like to? In case she doesn’t take you up on your offer?”

He is tongue-tied, his usual state of affairs she reckons. She sighs and takes pity on his stammered response, mostly ‘ums’ and ‘thank you buts’. She hushes him with a finger to his lips, “I know. Someone else has your heart. Poor me… but I’m not ready to begin again, at least I don’t think I am. But, just in case, I’ll take you dancing any time you like, day or night…”

“Thank you but I think it’s best if I get you back to your hotel. I have a call to make.”

He makes the call and, of course, she doesn’t turn him down.

Would you?

END


	18. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new face in town... and it looks very familiar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 a day until finished.

**Doppelganger**

Part 1 of 6

It’s a busy Saturday night. La Kaz is packed and three-quarters of the police team are liming… or trying to. Several cruise ships are in port and the tourists are having a great time. Dwayne, Camille, and Fidel… not so much.

Camille is very quiet, almost despondent. She didn’t want to be here alone but she can’t face another dreary evening at home… alone. ALONE! Always alone! _Why isn’t he here? They’d all invited him. He must know they are sincere and not just being polite to the boss. He can be so funny… such good company… OK, he didn’t dance but that could change… with the right approach and a little encouragement (and maybe a gun)… but WHAT approach? WHAT encouragement?_ Oh, her head is awhirl with circling thoughts and too many drinks.

She looks at Dwayne, sitting across the table, his eyes watchful. _Why isn’t he dancing with all the many new lovelies here tonight? He should be laughing and enjoying himself with a woman (or women) in his arms… just like I should be enjoying myself with a man in MY arms. Oh, where is he? Why isn’t he here? What can it be – the reason he won’t be with me?_

This isn’t working. Nothing is working. It’s hopeless. She recognizes the self-pity that is welling up inside. _I need my man and he isn’t here. I may as well go home. Better to sit in the quiet dark and KNOW I’m alone than here in this carousel of light and music and wonder WHY I’m alone._

Watching Camille frown and draw circles on the tabletop, Dwayne worries. He knows why she is so unhappy. She wants the Chief and he isn’t here. For months now her eager expectant manner has damped down to this desperate quietude. The Chief never came out no matter how many times they asked. It is hard to equate this absent man so careless of their feelings with the dynamo boss who shone so bright on the job. _He’s like two different people; the station alpha an’ the private omega. Can a woman be in love with half a man,_ he wonders? _Can half a man love a woman? Mebee I need to have a private talk with the Chief… but, man! How to phrase THAT conversation??_ Just thinking about it gives him the shivers.

Dwayne has tried to cheer her up with exotic drinks, each one more outlandish than the last – but that plan maybe wasn’t so smart. She is doubly depressed and getting drunk. He and Fidel had better take her home before she starts acting out. No telling what she might say… and to whom. Word of her secret might get out and island gossip can be vicious. Better not tempt fate.

Just as he is leaning over to nudge Fidel who is also watching Camille with empathy, they all hear the voice, “Well, THIS is nice!” It rings out like a clarion call amid the hubbub. All three swivel towards the packed dance floor. Dwayne is so relieved… _he’s come out, after all! Thank god! He’s the only one who can cheer her up... an’ I REALLY hope I never have to have ‘the talk’ with him._

Camille’s face is shining with a smile to match her eager eyes as she searches for a familiar suit, her whole body taut with a sudden thrumming. _He’s here! So close… but where? I don’t care if you won’t dance… just sit by me and exist in the same space, breath my air, be handsome and witty and HERE!_

They don’t see him. Fidel stands and begins quartering the floor. Dwayne steps up onto his chair and scans the crowd. Camille is beginning to wonder is she’s so desperate that now she’s hallucinating… when the voice is heard once more, “Did you coppers lose something?”

They all three jerk in unison to face a dark-haired man in a splashy shirt who has drifted in close to their table and is being bumped by the crowd behind him. Dwayne frowns. This guy looks familiar. Did he know him? “Um, no sir. We thought we heard a friend but we don’ see him.”

The man smiles a familiar smile, small dimples bracketing his mouth, “Oh, so sad. This is a bad place to lose a friend… but a great place to make new ones!”

It is the Chief’s voice! Odd accent and maybe a bit deeper… but the same! Plus he is eyeing Camille a little too closely in Dwayne’s humble opinion. He steps up to the stranger but the man dekes around him, leans over the table, and holds out his hand to her, “Hi, my name is Rab and I’d very much like to dance with you, if I may.”

Dwayne turns to the table with indignation, joined by an equally annoyed Fidel. Both men wait for the expected rejection… which never comes. They see Camille start to speak… then pause. She is looking at Rab with puzzlement then wonder then joy. Her hand slips into his and as she stands and comes around the table, Fidel and Dwayne see the man’s eyes in a stray lance of light as the couple pass them on the way to the dance floor.

They are bright green.

End – Part 1


	19. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard dithers.

Part 2 of 6

On a certain beach elsewhere

Richard paces in his bed-sit, various articles of clothing thrown onto the bed, his mind in a total whirl of indecision. He is supposed to be ‘liming’ with his team. He fully intends to lime. He WANTS to lime. But he can’t make himself leave the premises. None of his clothes suited the occasion and he can’t show up on a Saturday night in his work suit! There is no such thing as a ‘party suit’, is there? He stops, thinks about it a moment then shakes his head and keeps pacing. 

He is distracting himself… his old tried and true method of avoidance. Waste enough time and the moment will pass and he can stand down and shrug his shoulders and tell himself he tried, he really did. Only… this time… THIS time… he really DID want to do this thing. 

Lately, he has felt like time is slipping away, dwindling down to a precious few moments soon to be gone forever. He wants… he wants… a Life! A REAL life… with a home and a wife and kids and even a dog! That’s how desperate he is… even a dog!! He throws himself onto his bed and sinks his head into his hands… _even a dog… how pathetic is that?_

_Stop it! This is just more distraction. Start at the beginning and work UP to the dog! That’s the only way to do it… one step at a time. And the first step, the very first step… is Camille._

Heaven help him! 

_Camille. Fiery, scary, I-don’t-need-a-man, flirt-with-me-and-I’ll-bust-your-arm Camille. Why did it have to be her? Well, if not her… then who?_ Who else can spend day after day in his company without throttling him? Who else gave as good as she got when they argued? He often wondered what she would be like on a debating team… what a match-up THAT would be! The thrust and parry of verbal assertion and rebuttal… but he’s distracting himself again! _Stay on track, Poole!!_

 _Camille, right, Camille… who is so totally wonderful in every way… except for the fiery scary break your arm part. Oh… AND half-French, let’s not forget that!_ Half French and totally scary… yet… she is the only woman he’s met in the past 20 years who even remotely understands him in the slightest yet still seems to like him at all. Despite repeated exposure. 

It HAS to be Camille! His biological clock isn’t just ticking anymore… the alarm is going off and getting louder every day. Camille… she is his last hope and his only chance. 

Fate can be so cruel. 

_All right. Camille is at La Kaz… so I have to go there. I have to go… and somehow… do what? Woo her? In front of people? Could I just ask her to marry me and be done with it? Yeah, right. They would be picking my bits up off the beach for weeks. Maybe there’d be enough to bury… but probably not. They could just mail me home in a large envelope. Mum could keep me on the mantle…_

_Oh, this is just more distraction. I am going to La Kaz and that is final! She is always trying to get me out of my jacket and tie… so off they come. Good. Next… undo some buttons?_ He bravely undoes three then does two back up… _can’t be uncivilized now, can I? Aftershave? Would she even notice? Well, it can’t hurt. Ok… done. Now… now NOTHING. I am as ready as I’ll ever be… which is to say not ready at all. But. Camille. Right. I’m off._

And he IS off. Incredibly, unbelievably, he is actually going. He’s in the truck and he’s driving. _Maybe I’m just dreaming I’m going and I’m really asleep and dreaming I’m going? Let’s go with that. This is all a dream… so how bad can it be?_

When he gets to La Kaz, he discovers just how bad it can be. 

Badder than bad. 

Worser than worst. 

End – Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Party suit? I have some suggestions...


	20. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do or die, Richard... what's it gonna be?

**Part 3 of 6**

The place is packed. He heard the music thumping almost a mile outside of town. _I’ll have to woo her in mime_ , he thinks, _maybe write her a note_. None of his false bravery prepares him for the sight that meets him when he slips in a side door and spies the team’s usual table.

Dwayne and Fidel are glowering at the dance floor. The table is covered with an absolute litter of exotic drinks glasses. _They must be smashed_ , he thinks, but they didn’t look smashed. They look livid, insulted, ready to start a fight! Following their angry gazes, he sees what they see.

Camille…

Camille wrapped around a man so tight it is hard to tell where she left off and he started! The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs. In all his frantic worry and anxiety it never occurred to him that she isn’t waiting for him! She is getting on with her life! If the Richard train isn’t in the station, she is using other modes of transportation… _and I am officially losing my mind! What has trains got to do with anything? Think, Richard, think!_

But he can’t think. The music is deafening. The crowd is manic. The heat is oppressive. Better to go home and walk it off along the beach and… _drown myself… at least I would be cooler. Oh, stop being so melodramatic. It’s not the end of the world… just the end of MY world_. Plenty more world out there to conquer… but not tonight. Tonight is finished. Time to slip away and go home.

He turns away, ready to slink off, but he has to look once more just to remind himself what happens when faint heart avoids fair maid for too long.

It is that exact moment when Fidel turns away from the crowd in disgust and looks right into his Chief’s eyes. The young man bolts to his feet, quivering, grabs Dwayne by the shirt collar and bodily drags him out of his chair to stand beside him. Dwayne almost starts the fist fight that he’s been dying to start but Fidel grabs his chin and turns his head towards the back room. They are now both looking right at the Chief, disbelief and relief radiating off them like x-rays. Before Richard can escape they are across the room and on either side of him babbling like lunatics and gesturing out onto the dance floor.

It is several moments before any of it makes sense… Camille, too many drinks, some green-eyed ponce in a stupid shirt, and it is many more moments before Richard understands what his officers want him to do. Waltz out there in front of everyone and peel Camille off that poser and… and what? Claim her?

“You have GOT to be joking!” he all but yelps. “If she wants to be with that guy then she’s made her choice. There’s nothing I can do about it!”

“Yes, there is!” yells Dwayne. “She doesn’ want to be with him. He sounds like you. He looks a bit like you. But he isn’ you! No way can he stack up against you! You’re the Chief an’ he’s a nobody! Get out there an’ show her the error of her ways!”

“No! Absolutely not! I’m not going to pit myself against some guy I don’t know. Maybe he’s rich. Maybe he’s famous. Maybe he’s…” _…better equipped to make her happy_ , he thinks but doesn’t say.

Dwayne grabs him by the shoulders and growls, “Maybe nothin’! He’s nothin’! If somethin’ happens tonight, she will never forgive herself… OR me! It’s MY fault she’s so tipsy. If YOU don’ go out there and do somethin’, I’LL have to. An’ the way I’m feelin’ right now, you will have to arrest me for GBH!”

Fidel is bristling with anger, nodding at Dwayne’s words, “He’s right, sir. It’s our fault she’s out there. We should have taken her home hours ago. She didn’t want to be here if you weren’t here. We knew that but we made her stay. Now she’s made a mistake, just a small one, understandable under the circumstances…” Here he gave his Chief a stern look that makes Richard feel slightly ashamed of himself. “… BUT it could become a huge mistake if we don’t do something about it. She doesn’t want to dance with him, not with anyone, only you. It’s always been you.”

“He’s right, Chief. She doesn’ want him. She wants you.”

Richard stares at them helplessly, “Me? How can you know that? I don’t even know that!” He pauses, sees their confident concerned looks and thinks furiously, “Are you sure? How do you know?”

“We know,” Dwayne promises.

Richard is frozen in indecision.

End – Part 3


	21. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An improvement is made.

**Part 4 of 6**

Fidel sees this and steps forward, “Do you trust us, sir?”

“Of course, you are the best officers I’ve ever worked with and…” Dare he say it? “… my friends.”

“Thank you for that. Then trust us now. We know. We just wish you knew it too. Look at her. Don’t you feel anything?”

Richard does look… and sees his future balancing at the tipping point. What does he feel? Anger, jealousy, fear, longing… it’s all a jumble but his heart is hammering and he is primed for action, “Yes, I feel a lot!” He takes a deep breath, turns back to his friends, “What do I do?”

Fidel puts a hand on his Chief’s shoulder, “If you are half the man I think you are you will go out there…”

“… an’ knock that guy right DOWN!” growls Dwayne, flexing his fists, “Don’ worry, Chief, I’ll help!!”

Fidel shakes his head, “No, Dwayne, that will just complicate things. I have an idea…” and the three men go into a huddle.

The dance floor

Camille is lost in the pleasant world of Richard. His arms are around her, he is whispering wonderful things into her ear. He smells so good… different but good… and that’s OK because he is here and he is finally with her... AND he’s dancing! Bonus!! She snuggles against him. Funny, he seems to have gotten some sun. Richard? With a light tan? How amusing.

Too soon the music will stop but only for a while. They can sit down and talk about whatever outlandish thing his brilliant mind is currently fixated on. She didn’t care. The mind behind the face is so seductive… he has NO idea! They can dance again… or maybe stroll on the beach… in the moonlight. Moonlight and privacy can lead to all sorts of things… wonderful things… especially now that he seems so receptive to her advances. She hopes the alcohol in her system doesn’t turn him off. She knows he doesn’t like intoxicated women. Maybe he will forgive her this lapse… it was Dwayne’s fault, after all.

And there’s Dwayne now, signaling to her. What does he want? Can’t he see she’s with Richard? She shakes her head at him and presses her face into Richard’s shoulder. So nice. Dwayne can wait.

But Dwayne doesn’t wait. He is suddenly in front of them, jostling her and trying to push Richard away. She rounds on him, “Dwayne, go away! Leave us alone!” For a moment, her hands are empty. There is a sudden vacuum of Richard-ness… then it is filled again. She turns back and re-nestles herself into the hollow of his body and returns to her happy dreaminess.

End – Part 4


	22. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations... on and off the dance floor.

**Part 5 of 6**

She doesn’t hear or see any of the furious struggle that is taking place only a short distance away. Thank goodness for the full house! Nor does she see or sense the furious struggle that is taking place right under her hands… but she feels the sudden tenseness melting, the hesitant embrace tightening, the space between them shrinking down to a zone of silence that contains only two. NOW he feels and smells just right. AND he is the absolute perfect shade of pale. Her Richard.

She begins whispering sweet endearments to him again. There is a lull in conversation before he begins answering her… but he is saying all the right things and even some things that he hadn’t said earlier… much nicer things... a home… a wife… children… perhaps even a dog? She sighs and is back in heaven. All of that is in the future. She is joyful with the now. Dwayne better not come back or there will be a fistfight!

As for Rab, he has been twirled away by Dwayne and pushed into Fidel’s arms. Fidel has slipped the Chief into Rab’s place and both men have wrestled the angry tourist into a back room where they spend several minutes explaining the facts of life in great and gory detail into a suddenly chastened and horrified ear.

Minutes later, Rab slinks out the same side door that Richard had used to enter. _Whew! That was a close one! Imagine me picking up the one woman whose boyfriend is a drug lord! The cops down here are sure friendly and take their jobs seriously, guarding the tourists and making sure they didn’t get snuffed by accident._ Rab hastens up the street and resumes his night in a quiet bar, counting his blessings.

Dwayne and Fidel watch him go, panting and relaxing finally. They turn back to the dance floor. There is Camille but now she is wrapped around the Chief and isn’t that a much nicer picture? Sure it is. They can see their lips moving. Whatever they are discussing, it’s sure taking a lot of words to convey… and how can the Chief possibly catch a breath in that embrace?

The officers grin at each other and sit back down at their table. Dwayne orders coffees and they wait… _you just never know, you know?_ “Shouldn’ you be thinkin’ about goin’ home?” he asks Fidel.

“Juliet will kill me if this doesn’t turn out the way it should,” Fidel answers. “She’ll forgive me... AND she’ll want a full account of the outcome.”

“Must be nice, married to someone like that. Understandin’ an’ all.”

“It is. You should try it.”

“Hmm… mebee I’ll wait until we get the Chief settled then we’ll see. Anyway, won’ this make a good story? Juliet will be on the edge of her seat!”

“No one will believe it. Maybe even I don’t believe it! Did we really hi-jack the Chief and shove him into Camille’s arms?”

“Yeah, and don’ he look perturbed?”

They can see the Chief. Perturbed isn’t the word to describe the look on his face. Blissful, maybe. Dreamy, perhaps. Found… that’s it. He’s home… and happy to be safe at last. The officers glance at each other a trifle sheepishly then laugh. _All in a day’s work, eh?_

When the music stops, one couple continues dancing for a long moment before noticing the lack of syncopation then slowly wend their way back to the table without managing to separate themselves from themselves. She is glowing and plump with satisfaction. The Chief is just glowing. Both men know what is going through his head… and they don’t blame him.

Dwayne plies her with coffee and she begins to wake up a bit. Enough to wonder briefly about some guy named… but the name is washed away in the tsunami that is Richard and is forgotten forever after (forgotten by HER at any rate).

“We’re so glad you finally decided to join us,” she purrs to the Chief.

Dwayne’s woman-radar whites out from the pheromone pulse that hits him. He moves back a bit, getting out of her range and leaving the Chief squarely at ground-zero... or maybe it’s ground-Camille. Either way, the Chief is on his own!

“So am I. I would have been here sooner but I couldn’t find a single thing to wear,” the Chief laughs, hand over hers on the table top.

_Huh_ , Dwayne thinks, _he took a direct hit and is still talkin’ sense. Good armor._

Camille sits up, suddenly animated, “I can help you with that. Let me take you shopping tomorrow. We can make a day of it, take the ferry over to Guadeloupe, maybe…”

Richard leans in, lowers his voice so that only she hears, “… maybe stay the night?”

She is suddenly breathless… _Why is it so hot in here?_

End – Part 5


	23. Doppelganger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to roll.

**Part 6 of 6**

He sits back up, a pleased smile flirting at the corners of his mouth, turns to his officers, “I’m sure you can man the station for two days? You’ve proven your dependability and resourcefulness here tonight. I trust you implicitly.”

Dwayne is first to find his voice. _That must have been SOME discussion out there on the dance floor!_ “Oh, sure thing, Chief. No worries. We got your back, don’ we, Fidel?”

Fidel stutters into life, thinking he has quite an ending… beginning?... to tell Juliet, “Yes, we do. We could man the station for as long as necessary, in case…”

The Chief is smiling at Camille, “Hmm, yes, in case…”

Dwayne can’t help noticing that Camille is looking back like a starved something-or-other… he’s not quite sure what… but it’s starved all right! _Oh, yeah, time to go!_ He claps his hands together, “Well, I think our job here is done. Time to roll home, eh, Fidel?”

Fidel stands, “Yes, rolling. Are you OK now, Chief?”

“I believe so. Thank you both… for everything.” He is trying very hard to ignore the hand that Camille has slid down his back. He whispers very quietly as an aside, “Your timing needs a little work!”

Dwayne grins, winks, pretending not to have heard the whisper, “Sure thing, Chief. Just remember who your friends are when the big day arrives.”

“I think the big day is imminent and may happen in Guadeloupe… but you’ll be front and centre at the home-coming… if only to keep Catherine from skinning me alive when she finds out.” Now he is trying to keep her from crawling into his lap… but not very successfully… and not at all seriously.

Fidel laughs, “Mothers all love a married daughter. I think she’ll forgive you anything… now.”

Dwayne frowns, “Say, don’ you think it’s odd that Catherine hasn’t shown herself all night?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” The three men look around. Where IS La Kaz’s owner and operator?

Richard’s attention is suddenly caught by Camille telling him that her timing is the LEAST of his worries now and she laughs at his utter and total blushing response while the officers turn away and give them their privacy... privacy in a totally packed room… which is privacy enough for SOME things.

Not ALL things.

The men are half a block away when they hear the Defender roar off in the other direction. _I wonder who’s drivin?_ ’ Dwayne wonders, _Whoever it is, they sure got a lead foot!_

He glances over at Fidel to see Fidel glancing back.

Dwayne quirks an eyebrow.

“Must be some sort of emergency,” Fidel says with a straight face. “There’s no other reason for the misuse of police property like that.”

Dwayne laughs and claps Fidel on the shoulder, “Ah, man! You sound just like ‘im! You’re gonna make a great Chief someday!” They laugh all the way to where their paths diverge, waving good night and meaning it.

Up the street in a small quiet bar

Unbeknownst to anyone, having witnessed the whole farce and enjoyed herself immensely at the contortions the men had put themselves through, and trusting their limited male ability to settle everything to her satisfaction, AND absolutely sure of her daughter’s feminine prowess, the owner of La Kaz is in a quiet bar just up the street, talking to a very nice man… but that’s another story.

END - Doppelganger


	24. Rollercoaster

**Rollercoaster**

Their second evening together looms lusciously in the future… but first… FIRST she must survive this long anguished day at the station! Trying to maintain her usual nonchalant professionalism is impossible! Her skin feels too tight. Colours are too bright. The air is too thin. She has to get out and so she opts for every opportunity to escape.

This leaves Richard to himself… which she is sure he must appreciate… if he is feeling ANYTHING like she is! It has to be hard on him too, sharing space without actually sharing space. Now she understood his initial reservations about starting a personal relationship and wonders how she could have so blithely assured him it would be EASY!

It WASN’T easy! It was IMPOSSIBLE! Maybe it will be easier with time? She hopes so. The constant emotional rollercoaster she is on now is so much worse than before.

Before… she had only her imagination.

Now… she has hard and fast facts. And the facts are SO much better! The best, in fact…HAH! And VERY hard… double HAH! But – the day has to end – and it DOES end. The fierce hold on her adrenalin is loosed and given free rein – and it feels SO GOOD!

She stands in the doorway, quivering to the very ends of her fingertips. She’s already bid ‘good night’ to Dwayne and Fidel… they are safely out of the way… and now she is just waiting for him. Watching and waiting. And beginning to wonder…

He is calm, cool, and collected. He tidies his desk and closes down his computer. He begins packing his briefcase. So many files! Surely he doesn’t intend to work at home tonight? Not tonight!! She watches him slowly stand and shrug into his suit jacket, ambling ever so nonchalantly towards her, turning off lights as he approaches. He looks totally relaxed and at ease except for his eyes. They are very watchful and just a trifle worried.

She steps quickly into the darkened station and confronts him just inside the door, “What do you think you’re doing? Why is your briefcase packed?”

“I’m done for the day. I’m going home. My briefcase is always packed. Why?”

She is momentarily lost for words, “Why? Why?? You don’t think you’ll have time for WORK, do you?”

“Why ever not?”

“Because… because… we are picking up where we left off last night, THAT’S why ever not!”

“Oh. Really? Whew. I wasn’t sure. You seemed rather remote all day. I was worried that perhaps you were having second thoughts?”

“I am! All kinds of second thoughts and third thoughts and even fourth thoughts and NONE of them involve paperwork. And what do you mean by ‘remote’? I had to stay away from you just to get through the day without bursting into flame. Surely you knew that?”

He regards her quizzically, “Nope. Sorry. I’ve been racking my brains all day trying to figure out what was wrong between us… other than the obvious ‘morning after the night before’ regrets. You aren’t regretting it, are you? Regretting… us?”

Now it is her turn to regard him quizzically. Such a puzzle… still! Obviously their love-making will have to be explained to him step-by-step just like their rushed last-minute wooing. All those months of flirting and blatant come-ons hadn’t worked because he hadn’t understood ANY of it. It wasn’t until she’d told him in plain English that he’d finally realized what it was all about. She’d come close to throttling him as a result but opted instead to tie him in knots… so much more enjoyable and satisfying!

She sighs, places her hands on his shoulders, and uses her best ‘I’m only going to say this once’ voice, “Richard Poole, I do not regret a single thing. I am happy… excited… and utterly smitten. I want to make love to you in every way possible and maybe even some impossibles.” He is staring at her in growing surprise. “I’m very sorry but until this fire in my blood is quenched you will have very little time for paperwork at home. Do you understand me?”

He nods, a trifle alarmed, “I think so. Am I to understand that you wish to repeat last night’s performances again? Tonight? And… every night?” He can’t seem to believe it.

She relents, “Well, maybe not every night. Work will intrude, won’t it? After all, murder has to trump our private time, yes?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“But… every night? Is that normal?”

“I don’t know if it’s normal… but it’s going to be OUR normal for a while.”

“For how long?”

She smiles then, “As long as it takes.”

“Oh.” He is silent for a moment. Now he looks like a man who cannot believe his luck, “You’re glowing, do you know that?”

“Yes… and soon I will burst into flame and expire right here in front of you!”

He takes a deep breath, “Well, we can’t be having that, now can we? Come on, let’s get you out of public view so you can burn to your hearts content.” He puts his briefcase down inside the front door. At her look he says most seriously, “It’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m just so used to filling my evenings with work as there was little else to occupy my time… but now that I’m a fire-fighter, I’ll be busy putting out blazes all night, won’t I?"

She kisses him, “Yes, you will… maybe even into the wee hours of the morning.”

Kissing her back, he smiles, “Careful, Camille. Despite the old saying, even the wicked need their rest.”

After they lock up and are half-way down the steps, he suddenly laughs.

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“I just remembered something I said to you months ago. Do you remember? ‘At it all night and again before breakfast’. At the time, I was amazed that I’d said something so out of character and you didn’t punch me!”

“Punch you? That wasn’t my first thought, let me tell you. You almost had to put out a fire right then and there!”

He holds the truck door open for her, “Ah… so sorry to disappoint.”

As he slides in behind the wheel and they pull out of the lot, she eases over to him and begins fanning the embers, “That’s OK, you’ve more than made up for it already. Now you can start storing up good will for the future.”

He smiles contentedly, “At it all night and again before breakfast... I think I will make that the new ‘Curse Of Richard Poole’… may I suffer from it all my natural born days.”

“Just you… or can I get in on this new curse?” He doesn’t FEEL cursed… he feels heavenly.

“Oh, curses are pretty flexible. I think there’s room for two in this one.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing down Collection #2 with 10 complete stories.  
> Starting Collection #3 sometime soon.


End file.
